


Lex Talionis

by intermundia



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom/sub, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Dyad (Star Wars), Heavy Angst, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Light Bondage, M/M, No Underage Sex, Obi-Wan Kenobi's Disappointed Voice Kink, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Sith Anakin Skywalker, Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, That's Not How The Force Works, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:49:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 177,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23970436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intermundia/pseuds/intermundia
Summary: The ancient Galactic Republic is dying slowly—an ugly death of corruption, sprawl, and decay—with the sin of slavery hanging over its every triumph. The beleaguered Jedi Knights are too few to adequately patrol and police the entire Republic, and are faced with complacency and greed at every turn. Born into a crumbling and stagnant galaxy, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker are faced with the greatest challenge of all: themselves.Obi-Wanlikesrules and control. When the galaxy around him stops playing by the rules, what is a Jedi to do? Anakinneedsrules and restraint. When the galaxy around him conspires to set him loose, what is his Master to do? Falling slowly or falling fast, falling through lust or falling through wrath—it all leads to delusion and moral decay. What can be born from the ashes?Or, how Obi-Wan and Anakin fell to the dark side, obtained their revenge, and saved the galaxy in the process.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 556
Kudos: 1201





	1. Retrospect

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Sith AU / Force Dyad AU
> 
> Things will get a little more... intense in this one than my other ones so check the tags! 
> 
> This fic has been blessed with [incredible](https://unpheenix.tumblr.com/post/617838144096714752/when-did-it-begin-when-was-he-changed-was-it)[ art](https://unpheenix.tumblr.com/post/618006982378586112/obi-wan-moved-his-mouth-to-anakins-ear-his-voice) by [unpheenix](https://unpheenix.tumblr.com) who is a treasure beyond measure, check it out!
> 
> [Promises](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ff6Nfc25lYLiuza54RJco?si=Zg-mIAmZScuHG_8yG3lmpQ) is a playlist made by [wernnaa](https://wernnaa.tumblr.com) that distills the essences of the characters and their emotional journeys, and i cannot praise it highly enough or recommend it strongly enough. It _is_ LT delivered in another medium. Check it out! ❤️
> 
> Thanks for reading :)

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s life had not turned out the way that he'd expected. Not at all. He reflected upon this, as he sat alone in the Supreme Chancellor’s office, leaning back in the absurdly throne-like chair, his feet on the desk.

As a youngling, his ambition was simply to be a great Jedi Knight. He loved the Code, loved the Order, loved the Force. He was a bit emotional and foolish, but a normal Jedi youngling. Far down on the list of those who would become… something else.

_When did it begin?_ _When was he changed?_

Was it perhaps on Naboo, when Master Qui-Gon was cut down, and gave his final order? When his instinct to defy the Council came for the first time, in order to train Anakin? When the Council acknowledged the return of the Sith but did nothing to confront the threat, until that threat swallowed them whole? Was that when his faith was broken?

Questions like these were ultimately pointless—Obi-Wan already knew the real answer to when everything had changed.

He had been sixteen, when he had first dreamed of _Anakin_. 

—

It had been a well known fact around the Temple that Obi-Wan was unusually strong with the unifying Force. He had been identified by Master Yoda as a sensitive youngling after experiencing a number of visions of the near future in his dreams. He sometimes knew things he could not know, and had seen things he could not have seen—not _yet_. 

The prophetic dreams always showed the future from his own perspective, as if he was a spectator of his future experience, watching as he lived events that would take place days or weeks, sometimes even months, in the future. It was occasionally difficult for him to focus on anything else when awake, trying always to match where he was to what he’d seen in visions, never fully present in the moment. 

By age thirteen, it was clear that Obi-Wan needed to be better anchored in the living Force, so Yoda engineered a partnership with Master Qui-Gon Jinn, who was an expert on such things, in the hopes that it would be mutually beneficial. It both was and was not helpful. 

Obi-Wan did learn a great deal about the living Force. He learned to be connected to all life, how to tie himself to a particular moment of mutual existence. This centering and grounding was useful, as it was a skill that opposed his natural inclination to be drawn within the unifying Force, stolen from the moment, and woven into the entirety of the fabric of space-time.

In dreams his consciousness still seemed able to slide along his own timeline, visiting itself in future states.

This was the power that he desperately needed to learn to understand and control, and this was where the partnership with Master Qui-Gon failed. Qui-Gon’s disinterest in and disinclination to teach Obi-Wan about the unifying Force left Obi-Wan adrift. He had to research for himself, without supervision. He had to determine which of his dreams were prophetic or not, without supervision.

Obi-Wan would have appreciated supervision. He craved structure, feedback, improvement. He wanted clear expectations for success and he wanted to meet them. He liked rules, and when people followed them. He was profoundly uncomfortable in front of the Council, trying to reconcile Master Qui-Gon’s irreconcilable behavior over and over. Obi-Wan just wanted to be a good Jedi.

He was sixteen when the dreams began. There had been nothing special about the day before, just an ordinary day at the Temple. He was recently back from a year running from bounty hunters with the Duchess, and was settling back into Temple routine. It’d been an easy day of coursework and sparring. No indications of anything amiss. 

He had three _vivid_ dreams in one night. It was extremely unusual for him to remember more than one dream in the morning, if any. 

He would never forget these three.

His dreams that night were not visions of tomorrow, or next week, or next month. For some inexplicable reason, overnight he seemed to have become exponentially more powerful in the Force. It made no sense. He seemed to be looking many, many years in the future—if they were indeed prophetic dreams at all. They had felt as vivid and real as the other prophetic dreams, but they _simply couldn’t be_ accurate visions of his future. 

They must have just been nightmares.

He was a _Jedi_ , he didn’t…

_He’s using the willing body beneath him for his own pleasure, fucking deliberately and roughly, the slap of skin on skin, smiling at a whining moan of submission. His cock is pounding into a tight, slick hole, his hands are gripping hips, fingers aching with the pressure as he squeezes bruises into the smooth golden skin. He slides one hand down the long, muscled back swayed in front of him, tracing the curved ridge of the spine down to the neck, tangling a hand in the curly golden mess and grabbing tight, pressing down, shoving the unseen face into the mattress as he continued to slam his cock into their perfect ass, murmuring in a low voice, take it, yes, good, you take my cock so well,_ Padawan _._

They had to be nightmares. He wouldn’t…

_He’s laughing at the sound of gagging as he fucks into a gaping mouth, pulling roughly on golden curls as he drags an unseen face down his cock, drool dripping from the swollen red lips stretched around him, fucking in again, deeper, pushing in, feeling the moment when they finally relax and just take it, let him use their throat, own their body, however he wants. He slides out and hears frantic gasps, sucking in precious air before asking for it again, saying please, please,_ Master _, please, ever so desperately, opening their wet mouth and looking up, begging him for his cock. He slams himself back in, watching eyes roll back and flutter shut in pleasure at being so good, so useful, he says, very good, yes,_ darling, sweetheart, Padawan, _take it._

He was positively sure they could not be visions of his own future. He couldn’t…

_He’s using the Force, holding someone still, binding their hands together, bent over the back of what looks like a curved, metal desk in a large red room, and he’s roughly shoving himself inside, not quite enough preparation, he’s hurting them, and they’re asking for more, more, please, Force, more, so he fucks them, and they say thank you,_ Master _, thank you, please can you, will you, so he does, using even more of the Force to gently begin to cut off the air, choking them as he fucks them, letting them gasp and struggle, before they come, unable to make a sound but their body trembling and tensing around him, so he comes too, looking over at an ornate mirror, at his much older, bearded face with a faint hint of amusement showing in his_ golden eyes. 

Obi-Wan had awoken to messy sheets, and had stared vacantly at the wall. 

_What._

None of it had made sense to him. He had thought about sex, certainly. He was a young, healthy human male with instincts. Not sex like that, though. Never sex like that. Nothing violent, nothing aggressive. He would never, could never, imagine himself having sex with his own Padawan, if he ever had one. He could never imagine laughing as he hurt them, _used them_. 

If asked the day before the dream, he wouldn’t have even been able to fathom the idea of conjuring up such things. He hadn’t known that people could or would do such things. And yet he had dreamt it. It was just a nightmare, something imagined, not the future, so that meant those desires had already existed inside him, right? How else could he dream of such things? 

How could he even have golden eyes? That simply _must_ mean it was symbolic. 

When asked, Master Qui-Gon had happily discussed thousand-year-old references to golden eyes from various texts he had discovered in the archives. Qui-Gon loved old stories, and so knew a surprising amount of relevant information, to Obi-Wan’s horror and despair. 

_Sith_.

Surely that meant that they definitely couldn’t be _prophetic_ dreams, because the Sith had been vanquished a thousand years in the _past_. Sith had become the stuff of legend, one step past history, figures bigger than life, becoming a perfect villain for the Jedi’s story of themselves. The story they told the younglings about who they were, why their Code was correct. Mere crèche stories. Sith were just the Jedi’s nemesis, their foil. A narrative device, a concept. 

_Sith_.

Not possible.

Obi-Wan thus unhappily dismissed the dreams as nightmares indicative of worrying problems with his mental health—his anxiety was out of control. Master Qui-Gon agreed (in abstract, without details that Obi-Wan adamantly declined to share) that _dreams pass in time_ and that Obi-Wan should _focus on the here and now_. So he did. 

He decided that his problem had been that somehow he became fixated on being the best Jedi possible, a perfect Jedi, which meant that the fear of being a bad Jedi lived inside him. What was the worst Jedi? A Sith. So, his fears had synthesized those dreams, shown him nightmares about being the worst possible Jedi. They were a symptom of a disease that he could cure. 

They were _not prophetic_. 

All Obi-Wan had to do was be even a moderately good Jedi, and stick by the Code, and those _things_ would never happen. Since they would never happen, that meant those dreams were not visions of his future. His partner was just an amalgamation of things he apparently and worryingly desired, not a real person, not someone he would ever really meet. They were nightmares he wouldn’t have again. He nodded to himself. Sighed in relief. Went to sleep. 

_Sucking dark purple bruises down a long neck and across golden collarbones, laughing at whimpering and pleading, knocking flimsy off the desk, pushing down roughly, kicking legs apart, fingers causing moans stretching and preparing, slicking himself quickly with bacta, then teasing with just the tip, waiting for begging, pleading, before slamming the entire length of his cock in with one rough thrust, murmuring, very good, take it_ , darling, dearest one, Padawan, _take it, fucking hard and fast, no more time to adjust, no more time to waste, they’re almost caught, he has to take what what his…_

He opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling. He closed them again, in defeat.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

This would become something of a waking-up ritual, in the following years. Not every morning, but _enough_ mornings. 

The dreams weren’t always of sex. Sometimes he was fighting unseen enemies, his Padawan at his back. Sometimes the enemies shot blasters, sometimes the enemies had red lightsabers. Several times, the enemies had blue and green lightsabers. No matter the color of the blade, the mood of these dreams was visceral joy, savage pleasure. One time he had been laughing as his apprentice decapitated an enemy, the sound of the body hitting the floor making his heart race with satisfaction and pride.

It did not sound like a laugh that would come out of his mouth. It did not sound like _him_. Definitely not. His subconscious was just processing anxiety.

He would try to give the dreams to the Force. He would pretend that he had successfully given the dreams to the Force. He would pretend that he was at peace. He would recite the Code several times. Then, he would get out of bed.

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

During the day, Obi-Wan was a good Jedi. A bit too serious, a bit too focused on the rules, to Master Qui-Gon’s endless despair, but as long as he had conscious control of himself and his faculties, he was an _exceptionally_ good Jedi. Obi-Wan knew, though, that he was something else, in dreams. Something feral. Something wrong. He had decided to accept this as just the way it was. The dreams were part of his path to walk as a Jedi, part of his struggle—something to overcome. 

They were just dreams.

Nine years after the dreams began, Obi-Wan Kenobi met a boy and heard the Force whisper, “ _Padawan.”_

Nine years after the dreams began, Obi-Wan Kenobi met and killed a Sith.

If the Sith were real…

_Kriff._

Alone in his office, seated on his _de facto_ throne, Obi-Wan knew. The dreams had been where it all began.

—

22 BBY

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan shouted down the collapsed tunnel. “Anakin! Where are you?” The dust was beginning to settle, and the obstruction was clearly visible. “Anakin!” The shaft had collapsed completely. Obi-Wan took a deep breath through the cloth of his sleeve and was about to shout again when— 

“I’m here, Master!” Anakin’s voice was muffled behind the wall of rubble. “I’m fine.”

Obi-Wan checked his comlink—no reception. “This is not fine, Padawan!” His voice was loud, and a little more shaky than he liked. 

_“Well, obviously, this is bad, Master, but I am fine. There were three miners caught, did you feel them die? I did.”_ Anakin’s voice came from inside his head, now, a rapid burst of verbalized thoughts. _“I sense there are about ten feet of rock between us, what do you feel?”_

“Fifteen!” Obi-Wan shouted and then coughed. _Blasted dust_. He could never let his shields down far enough to openly share his thoughts—he could never, ever, allow Anakin to enter his mind—and he didn’t have the concentration to push a thought at him intentionally. Hence, yelling: “Can you shift them?” He considered, coughed, and added, “I can’t do it alone!”

_“Probably, Master, but I worry about making it weaker elsewhere right now, it seems settled like this. I can’t bring down the mine with people still inside.”_ Anakin’s tone was apologetic. _“I’m going to do a sweep, I can feel life forms below us.”_

“We do not have time! This is all about to collapse!” Obi-Wan yelled, frustrated. “Do not leave!”

_“Master, I know you don’t want to let people be crushed to death if we can prevent it.”_ Anakin’s voice was almost chiding. 

“I’m sorry, Padawan, but we DO NOT have time!” Obi-Wan’s sense of danger was spiking. “Can’t you feel it?!” He began to hold the tunnel open around him, just in case. “Anakin!”

_“Sorry, Master.”_ Anakin said, and his Force signature began moving away, and down. _“I won’t let slaves die like this.”_

“I know,” Obi-Wan said, furious, resigned. “I know you won’t.” Anakin was beyond hearing range from him anyway. Obi-Wan’s head was ringing slightly, the blast had caught both of them off-guard, which was very rare. Obi-Wan’s sense of ‘I-have-a-bad-feeling-about-this’ had been absent, and Anakin hadn’t felt uneasy. The Force was quiet. Until… explosion. 

_“I’ve found twelve slaves, Master. Four chained to the wall.”_ Anakin’s thoughts were a sticky ooze of anger. _“Two more dead, still in chains. Days old.”_

Obi-Wan focused as hard as he could and sent one word: _“Hurry.”_ He held the structural integrity of the mineshaft together as best he could, keeping the upper parts of the mine above the collapse as stable as possible. He couldn’t reach below, and he could feel it giving way. _“Hurry, Anakin!”_

_“Stop fussing, Master.”_ Anakin sounded both resentful and gratified. He always seemed to like it when Obi-Wan communicated through the bond, but he usually didn’t like what Obi-Wan had to say. That was normal. _“We are on our way up. One couldn’t walk, we had a delay.”_

Obi-Wan couldn’t spare the focus to comment. He held his hands in front of him, sinking in the Force, feeling the shape of the stone and the weight of the earth, pressing his will up against gravity’s pull, giving all of his available resources to the Force, feeding his energy into keeping everything stable and still. 

It was exhausting. 

He wished to the Force that he could be powerful enough to hold up a mountain by himself, but he knew that despite his own relatively considerable power in the Force, he could not do this. _Not without Anakin_. He was beginning to feel dizzy with the effort.

“ _I’m here._ ” Anakin finally projected. “I’m here!” He shouted, immediately after, letting Obi-Wan hear his position. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t yell, he couldn’t lose focus, so he used what sliver of attention he had left over and sent out a weak, undirected _“Help me, now!”_ into the Force at large. Immediately he felt a bit of relief, Anakin’s ocean of power sweeping through and reinforcing all the places that Obi-Wan’s hold was fraying. Obi-Wan relaxed marginally. 

Anakin began shifting the stones to clear a path when the shafts cut directly beneath them suddenly began to cave in, turning their tunnel’s floor into a fracturing mess. 

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan shouted, voice flush with panic, “Now! We have to go NOW!” He pushed his last bit of effort into the Force, holding the floor up. 

_“Let it drop!”_ Anakin’s thoughts came fast, frantic. _“No, Master, Obi-Wan, let it drop, I can hold the ceiling up.”_ Obi-Wan didn’t understand. Anakin’s voice came even faster, _“Let the floor fall under the blockage! Let it drop! It’s the only way!”_ With a sense of resignation, Obi-Wan refocused his powers on holding his side of the tunnel and only his side alone open. It was all he had left in him to do. _“Thank you, Master, yes, that is perfect, Master, thank you!”_

Anakin’s low, grateful murmur in his head made Obi-Wan’s stomach turn over, hands trembling slightly. He had heard those words before. Many, many times over the past twenty years. He swallowed and forcefully refocused, having almost lost his grasp. 

Anakin let the floor drop and controlled the fall, filling in the hole with the rubble from above, creating and holding a tunnel open for the surviving miners to hustle through, Anakin following up the last. The miners were all pale, starved, filthy, and terrified, streaming around him. Obi-Wan’s nostrils flared in frustration as he began to lose his grip. “Anakin!” His voice was strangled. The miners weren’t clear. They weren’t clear. They were all about to die if—

Anakin was there, Anakin was grabbing him, Anakin was pulling him along, Anakin was keeping him running. Obi-Wan had exhausted himself totally into the Force and had almost nothing left. The tunnel was collapsing behind them, on their heels. They shot out of the door into the refinery with only moments to spare, the crash behind them was tremendous, the dust cloud billowing out with them. Obi-Wan tripped over his feet, Anakin’s grip on his arm turned Anakin sharply back towards him, and then Anakin tripped over backwards over _his_ heels, and they both went down hard, Obi-Wan landing on Anakin’s stomach.

For a long moment, they both just lay there, while the collapsing mountain settled and the reverberating cracks stopped shaking the ground. Anakin was still gripping his arm tightly, holding him close—Obi-Wan was boneless, exhausted, lying stretched on top of Anakin’s body, cradled on his chest. They were both gasping for air. Obi-Wan’s face was pressed near the junction of Anakin’s neck and shoulder, and before Obi-Wan regained his sense of balance and understanding of where his body was and what it was doing, he breathed in one long breath with his nose, taking in the scent of _Anakin_ —

He felt a lightning strike of arousal, and jerked back so that he rolled off and lay next to Anakin instead, pulling his arm sharply out of Anakin’s grip. He was furious with himself. The dreams didn’t have scent. He didn’t need to add scent.

These occasional spikes of arousal had only become a problem after Anakin had gone through his final growth spurt, becoming taller than Obi-Wan, gaining broader shoulders than Obi-Wan. Ever since his voice had deepened from his high childish tones to the hauntingly familiar low, melodic, masculine ones. His cock should not get hard whenever his Padawan merely called him _Master_ in a deeply grateful tone, and yet it did. He gave those feelings to the Force, over and over. 

Anakin had become—almost overnight, it seemed—almost identical to the man Obi-Wan had been dreaming about for as long as he could really remember. All that was missing were curls that he would presumably grow as a Knight, a metal hand, which was _concerning_ , and a scar over an eyebrow. The otherwise familiar form and presence of Anakin’s adult body—the strength of his chest, the length of his arms, the softness of his skin—was _known_ somewhere deep in Obi-Wan’s consciousness, and his subconscious _recognized_ him in a way that Obi-Wan found completely unacceptable. His reactions began to be wrong. Anakin was still a Padawan.

_His Padawan_. 

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and breathed his calming breath. “You disobeyed a direct order, Anakin.” Anakin scoffed lightly back at him. He didn’t even bother to defend himself, or to acknowledge Obi-Wan’s point at all. He just scoffed. “Excuse me?” Obi-Wan asked, voice sharp.

Anakin rolled his head to the side to look at him. “It was a bad order, Master.” Obi-Wan looked sharply over, making furious eye contact. “You knew I wasn’t going to follow it.”

“What did you just say?” Obi-Wan was livid. He could still smell Anakin’s sweat. He suddenly had enough energy to get up, so he did. “We need to leave. I cannot speak with you about this right now. _Believe me_ when I say we are going to talk about this later.”

Anakin rolled his eyes and got up too. “You can skip the lecture, Master, I’ve heard it before.”

Obi-Wan stopped, turned, and took a step forward at Anakin. He wanted to wring his neck. “That is _enough_ , Anakin!” He took another involuntary step closer. “You will learn your place, young one.” His voice had become deceptively mild. “If you cannot follow simple orders, I can not and will not take you with me on missions.” Anakin looked flushed. “I cannot _wonder_ if you will follow directions, Anakin. That is not how this works. That is not acceptable. That is not sufficient.” He prevented himself with difficulty from moving any further forward, from coming within arm’s reach. “I am supposed to be your Master. You are _allegedly_ my Padawan.” Anakin’s blush was deep red, now. “I need to know you will listen to me!”

“You wanted me to let those people die!” Anakin’s voice was loud and defensive. “Why would you ask me to do that?”

“Because I wanted _you_ to live!” Obi-Wan snapped back at him. This was not the time or place for this argument, but Obi-Wan couldn’t stop. “Because I wanted _you_ not to die!” Anakin swallowed and looked hard at the floor. “You are my _responsibility_ , Anakin!” Obi-Wan tried to push his frustration into the Force, and felt slightly dizzy. “Sometimes as Jedi we have to make hard choices, but it’s _not_ a hard choice if the choice is to live or to die with them! We can’t save every person every time, and it’s hubris to try, Anakin. It’s up to the will of the Force, sometimes.” Obi-Wan ran his eyes over Anakin’s tense posture and clenched jaw. For some reason it made his frustration flare back up. “I was unable to get you out without your help, and you just _left_ to go running off into _more_ danger because you just _felt_ _like_ you could handle it!”

“I could handle it!” Anakin’s head had snapped back up, he looked indignant. “I _did_ handle it.” His jaw clenched again and he took a deep breath. “You never acknowledge what I can do, what I have done. You don’t want me to use my powers, you don’t seem to think I have them, but I do. Why can’t I use them if I _know_ I can?”

“You didn’t _know_ , Padawan. You _guessed_. You could easily have guessed wrong.” Anakin was glaring at him, defiant. Obi-Wan wanted to shake him. “When a mineshaft is collapsing on top of you is hardly the correct time to indulge your ego, Anakin.” Obi-Wan forcefully turned and began to walk measuredly towards the door. “We need to leave.” After three fast paces away, he heard Anakin follow, dragging his feet.

As Obi-Wan strode back to their speeder, he couldn’t stop thinking, _it’s getting worse._

Back when Anakin was a young boy, the discrepancy between Obi-Wan’s dreams and reality made it very easy to keep them separate. Obi-Wan was sure that he could handle it, when he undertook Qui-Gon’s dying request. The Force pushed him hard, telling him it was important that he do so, besides, the future was always in motion, according to Master Yoda. Obi-Wan had free will, and he was going to choose to be a Jedi, every time.

The child he took as his Padawan only held the _Padawan_ that he knew in his dreams as a lurking potential, a distant shadow, a hypothetical problem. Everything was fine for years, Obi-Wan had everything under control. The occasional dreams inspired him and motivated him as a teacher—it was essential that Anakin be the best Jedi it was possible for him to be. 

That would just be another way to disprove the nightmares. They showed just one of many possible futures, and it would not be theirs.

Obi-Wan diligently taught Anakin the Code, and he taught him everything he knew about the Jedi arts. He dedicated himself to setting the best possible example of Jedi behavior. He maintained a respectful and professional distance between them, and did not encourage affection or indulge in attachment. He was a mentor, not anything else. For many years, until Anakin was in his mid-teens, everything had worked relatively well between them. Then, suddenly, it had cracked apart.

All the other Jedi seemed to agree that Obi-Wan was just doing his best, which was admirable, and that it was Anakin who was the problem in the relationship. Obi-Wan knew, however, that was not the case. He was the one failing Anakin, failing to guide and protect him. He was the one who was distracted, who was struggling with his emotions. Anakin was the apprentice, it was up to the Master to lead the way, and Obi-Wan knew he was not leading. Not anymore.

As a child, Anakin would accept Obi-Wan’s discipline without too much backchat. Anakin was and had always been willful, argumentative, emotional, and a million other things that Jedi were not, but he used to have a modicum of _respect_. Now, because of Anakin’s recent attitude, Obi-Wan was losing the ability to confront Anakin without his own emotions breaking through his façade, without losing his cool. Obi-Wan did not _lose his cool_. That was not a thing that Obi-Wan did. 

Anakin’s changed appearance only made things worse. Obi-Wan’s failure to control his attraction was not Anakin’s fault. 

Obi-Wan let Anakin drive the speeder, rather than argue about that, too.

“You did do good work today, Padawan.” Obi-Wan said, at length. “It’s not that I don’t see that. It was unequivocally good that those miners’ lives were saved.” Obi-Wan looked over at Anakin, who was staring straight ahead with a fixed expression. Obi-Wan looked back out the window. He pinched his nose, warding off a headache. “It’s about trust.”

Anakin huffed out a disbelieving breath. “You don’t trust me when I say I can do something, Master.”

“I know you are capable of many things, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said in a pressed tone, “But you must trust my more experienced understanding of risk. You must trust me when I say you _shouldn’t_ do it. We’re not necessarily talking about can or can’t, Padawan.” Obi-Wan was trying to not let his emotions enter the argument. This was merely a high-level conversation about their last conversation. A meta-conversation. No need to become emotional.

Anakin frowned. “If I can, I should, Master.”

“That is overly simplistic, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed. “You must realize that.”

“Why is a simple rule not a good rule?” Anakin sounded honestly frustrated. “Why shouldn’t I help, if I can help? That makes no sense at all, Master.”

“As you _never_ trust my judgement, I’m not sure why you bother to call me ‘Master.’” Obi-Wan mused, suddenly very tired. Anakin looked over at him sharply. “Nevertheless,“ he pressed on, “you _are_ my Padawan, and that means that ensuring your safety is going to be a factor in my calculations. It does not appear to be one in your own.” Anakin looked back at the road. “Forgive me if that does not inspire me with confidence in your decision making abilities.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Anakin said, grumpy. “If I can help, I should help. Why is that wrong?”

Obi-Wan kept his breathing as steady as possible. “Why are you resistant to the nuance that a situation with an _exceptionally_ high risk of _death_ is an _exception_ to your tidy little rule?”

“But they would have died!”

“So would you, if you had misjudged any one of a million single decisions you made over the course of five fraught minutes.”

“See! You still don’t believe I can do it, even after I did do it!”

“Blast it, Anakin. What if we escaped, exactly as we had, but the bomber had been waiting for us at the door? I couldn’t have fought them off. I probably still couldn’t. We’re extraordinarily _lucky_ it was on a timer.” Obi-Wan slumped back in his seat, resigned. “I’m exhausted. I nearly depleted myself holding things together until you got back. If we had left when I wanted to, I wouldn’t have had to risk being this exposed.”

There was a long, quiet moment.

“I’m sorry, Master.” Anakin sounded much sorrier that he had put Obi-Wan’s life at risk than his own. “Master, I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t _think_ Anakin. You just _act_.” Obi-Wan could see Anakin’s shoulders dropping all the way, now. Obi-Wan continued, still a little more waspish than usual. “You do what seems right _in the moment_ , but never consider more than two steps ahead. I do, and that’s why you should trust my judgement. At least until you figure out how to do it yourself.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin swallowed, loudly. “Sorry, Master.” Obi-Wan’s stomach flipped over, again. He looked out the window. Pushed the memory of a dream into the Force, and then pressed his hands hard against his temples against the spiking migraine that followed. He felt Anakin’s attention snap back to him, again. “What was that, Master? Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Yes, Anakin. I am fine. I am tired. I am depleted. I tried to use the Force beyond when I should have.”

“To do what? You’re just sitting there.” Anakin looked confused.

Obi-Wan didn’t want to talk about it. “Focus on driving, Padawan. I was just meditating.”

“Uh huh.” Anakin sounded dubious. Obi-Wan did not appreciate that. “If you say so, Master, I suppose I’ll just have to trust you.” He said the last words with a hint of a smile. Obi-Wan’s mouth quirked up too, for a moment, before it dropped. 

He needed rest.

—

Being nearly blown up and crushed was the least of the problems with their mission, Anakin thought sullenly as he sat beside Obi-Wan in the Parliament chamber, two days later. He shifted in his padded chair, stretching his legs out long before him, and sighing loudly, which made Obi-Wan glare at him briefly. After he looked away, Anakin grimaced. 

The reality of being a Jedi was nothing like he had expected when he was a boy on Tatooine, dreaming of traveling the galaxy and helping people—freeing slaves. It had felt like his destiny, his obligation. He would become a Jedi, and come back to Tatooine, destroy the Hutts, and make the people free. 

He was forbidden to do this by the Council, of course. Anakin despised the Council, sometimes. They had forbidden Obi-Wan to help his mother, too, he knew that for a fact. He had heard Obi-Wan arguing about it once. He sometimes overheard Obi-Wan defending him, or advocating for him. 

If only Obi-Wan would be like that when Anakin was around… Whenever Anakin was in the same room, Obi-Wan’s spine seemed to turn into a metal rod, his face lost all humor, his presence in the Force disappeared almost entirely.

Anakin hated that. 

Obi-Wan did a lot of inexplicable things that Anakin hated. It didn’t mean that he hated Obi-Wan, though. Far from it.

He watched as Obi-Wan tried to negotiate to improve conditions for the local population, watched with a secret well of pride as his Master passionately and earnestly attempted to right the injustice that was being done to them—to prevent the loss of their sacred land to extractive mining, to prevent their enslavement, and to prevent them being forced to dig up the mountain they held as divine. 

Apparently Obi-Wan had a history with Offworld Mining Corporation. He seemed much more angry than usual, beneath his very effective façade. Anakin was very familiar with the cracks in that façade, and how to see through them. He knew Obi-Wan was furious, but everyone other than Anakin would read him Obi-Wan as entirely calm. 

Anakin smirked. His chair creaked as he leaned back to watch the show, arms crossed. It might as well have been a show. He knew in advance that all of Obi-Wan’s pointed eloquence was probably just wasted breath. Obi-Wan doubtless knew it to—he shot Anakin another dirty look before returning focus to the negotiation. Anakin sighed, quieter this time. 

The fact that Obi-Wan _knew_ it was pointless but was still trying anyway made Anakin’s chest ache a little bit. 

He was slightly surprised Obi-Wan was even allowed to be advocating on the side of the vulnerable population. Anakin had been going on missions with Obi-Wan for years, so he knew that the crimes against the indigenous people were probably _not_ the reason Jedi had really been dispatched to the planet. 

He knew well enough by now that the real reason was that the planet’s Senator probably just didn’t like the terms that Offworld had offered, wanted more money, and was connected enough to get a motion through the courts. He had seen it a million times, the Senate was so corrupt. At least the current Supreme Chancellor was a wise, good man, or else the situation would be intolerable. 

Anakin hated politics. He thought that economics was boring. He had zero interest in sitting around listening to people talk. He would much rather be fixing something, fighting something, doing pretty much anything else. 

The only time Anakin was interested in history class was when they covered the Jedi before the Ruusan Reformation, back before the Jedi Order only enforced the _laws_ , back when the Jedi did what they thought was _right_. There were Jedi who defended worlds, and even regions of space, from Sith, pirates, slavers and warlords. 

Anakin wanted nothing more in _life_ than to defend regions of space from Sith, pirates, slavers and warlords.

Just because of stupid war, a thousand years ago, Anakin had been hounded all his life by a stupid Code, criticized all the time for just being a person, and was currently stuck in this stuffy Parliament chamber on this neglected Mid-Rim planet, listening to Obi-Wan pour his heart out in a pointless effort to use words to fight money—instead of just going and freeing the slaves he knew for a fact were in more mines not twenty miles away. 

He was beyond frustrated at everything that put him in that room. The Senate and the Council. They were the ones who were always stopping Anakin from being useful. At least Obi-Wan seemed to agree with him about the Senate, but Obi-Wan practically _loved_ the Council. He always agreed with the Council. 

“Let’s go, Anakin.” Obi-Wan was suddenly talking to him, the room was suddenly full of the sound of chairs scraping, rustling of expensive clothes, and low murmuring. “It’s lunch break.”

Anakin stood up gratefully. “Alright, Master.” He trotted after Obi-Wan, who was already striding out with his angriest walk. It was Anakin’s favorite walk. It made Obi-Wan swagger. “What’s wrong?”

“Not now, Padawan.” Obi-Wan snapped over his shoulder. “We obviously cannot speak now.”

Anakin looked around at the Parliament building, at the people milling about. He projected in the Force: _“Of course, I’m sorry, Master.”_

_“Thank you, Anakin_. _”_ Came floating back through the bond, to Anakin’s surprise. A faint smile appeared on Anakin’s face as they left the building. The feeling of Obi-Wan’s mind brushing his always made Anakin feel slightly warm and dizzy. He loved the feeling of his Master’s mind. He wanted to feel it all the time. The feeling retreated, almost immediately. Anakin sighed.

“Where are we going to eat, Master?” Anakin asked a more publicly acceptable question. “Do we have a meeting scheduled?” 

Obi-Wan huffed a false laugh. “Thankfully not.” He led them back out to their speeder, leaving the pilot’s seat open. Anakin smiled widely as Obi-Wan continued, “We can return to our hotel and have a quiet minute.” He deliberately pushed his shoulders down and took a deep breath before he said, “I am going to contact the Council and then meditate.”

Anakin frowned as he drove away quickly, swerving around a slow transport. “What does the Council want now?”

“It’s me who wants to talk to them, not the other way around.” Obi-Wan’s voice was bleak. “This mission is a failure. We need to leave.”

“What?” Anakin turned his head sharply, and studied the mask of Obi-Wan’s face, trying to get a better read. “We’re in the middle of negotiations, I thought?” He quickly veered back into their own lane. Obi-Wan hadn’t reacted to his reckless driving, which was a very bad sign about his state of mind. He asked the question anyway: “What about the people? They’ll be slaves and die if we go.”

“You know as well as I do that’s not why we’re really here, Anakin, and I wish you would, _for once_ , not attempt to rub salt in wounds that I cannot heal.” Obi-Wan snapped. Anakin’s heart raced at Obi-Wan’s tone, and he swallowed. There was something about the fervent iciness that made him oddly feel warm and special. He shouldn’t like being chastised this much. Obi-Wan continued in the same tone of voice: “It became clear to me today during negotiations that the deal has already been finished in a backroom meeting last night. Today was just _performative_.” The last word was barbed. 

Anakin swallowed again and tried to calm down, shaking his head slightly and refocusing on the road. Ever since he was about fifteen, Obi-Wan’s angry voice always made him feel unacceptable things. Extremely unacceptable things, that he hid as best he could. “I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin said, finally getting to a place where his voice would be steady. “I didn’t know that for sure. How can you tell?” 

“I could feel it in the Force as they were speaking.” Obi-Wan’s tone was still glacial. Anakin tightened his grip on the steering controls. “Their minds were saturated with self-congratulations and smugness at me and my responsibility as a Jedi, as if I was a dancing Kowakian monkey-lizard.” Anakin almost shivered at the suppressed emotion in the last phrase. He knew that Obi-Wan’s skill with mind tricks far surpassed his own, and so probably could have felt the mood of the room viscerally if he’d tried. How he had kept his cool in such a scenario was beyond Anakin’s comprehension. 

It seemed that Obi-Wan had almost complete control over his own mind and over his public persona. Anakin had spent a decade looking for cracks, and had appreciated every hairline fracture he could find. He had an instinct for how to press on those weakened areas, and an addiction for doing it, despite the consequences—or _because_ of the consequences, he could never be entirely sure about that. He also knew when it was actually a bad idea to press. 

“What’s next, Master? What do we do?” Anakin asked, attempting to act the part of dutiful Padawan to appease Obi-Wan’s coiling frustration. “How can I help, Master?”

Obi-Wan looked at him for a moment, and then relaxed minutely. “I’m not sure, Anakin.” He smiled faintly, eyes crinkling a hint. “Thank you for asking.” Anakin wanted to grin back, but tried to maintain a calm face. Obi-Wan pulled out his data pad and rubbed a sleeve on the display, clearing it of dust and fingerprints. “I’ll figure it out after we talk to the Council.” The smile was gone. “They doubtless have opinions about what our next move should be.”

“Yes, they probably do.” Anakin agreed, as neutrally as he was able to. Obi-Wan shot him a look that almost looked fond. Anakin felt a glow of pleasure, at having been useful in calming Obi-Wan down. He wanted very badly to say, _I can be a good Padawan too, see? I can be useful._

Obi-Wan looked up again sharply. “You’re projecting, Anakin.” He looked vaguely ill, for some reason. 

Anakin winced. “Sorry, Master.” He quieted his thoughts and slowed down the speeder, stopped swerving quite so much. “Should we look into who attacked us before we leave? It was strange that we both didn’t feel any warning in the Force.”

“It was strange, but not unprecedented.” Obi-Wan agreed, still looking unsettled. “We’re not omniscient, unfortunately.” He typed rapidly on his data pad before saying in a reluctant undertone, “Offworld really is the most likely culprit. They don’t exactly have a history of being troubled by killing Jedi, Anakin.” His tone was final, as if he would not be continuing on that topic. Anakin had a vague sense of why asking the question right then was not wise but—

“What happened?” It slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. As Obi-Wan’s face went still and he sighed deeply, Anakin immediately said, “Never mind, sorry, Master.”

“It’s a story for another time, Padawan.” Obi-Wan just sounded tired, now.

“Yes, I know.” He said. He sent across the bond. _“I’m really sorry, Master. I didn’t mean to pry right now.”_

Obi-Wan sighed and looked at him. “I know, Anakin.” Anakin met his unreadable gaze for a long moment before he turned his eyes back to the road. Obi-Wan said, “Your braid is coming undone. You need to take better care of it, it’s supposed to symbolize—”

“—my dedication to and accomplishment in the Jedi arts. I know, Master.” He winced. “It just slipped my mind this morning, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Padawan.” They had arrived at the hotel, and Anakin parked in a very narrow space. Obi-Wan watched warily, his own shoulder-length copper hair blowing gently in the breeze, which distracted Anakin minutely. No real damage to the speeder, just a bump and a sharp “Anakin!” and they were parked. 

“I’ll bet you five credits the Council will make us stay for the duration of the assignment, no matter how pointless it is.” Anakin said as they walked inside. 

“I refuse to take the bet,” Obi-Wan replied, resigned.

Anakin was right—Council insisted they stay for the remaining two weeks. Obi-Wan had agreed, immediately and politely. 

Anakin wanted to punch a wall. 

_Just another normal day as a Jedi_ , Anakin thought as he flopped dramatically back on one of the beds. He looked over at Obi-Wan who had ended the com with the Council and was looking at him blankly. Anakin stretched and whined, “I want to leave.” Obi-Wan just looked at him for another moment before shaking his head and swiftly leaving the room. Anakin slumped back and frowned at the ceiling. 

_Just another normal day._

_Kriff._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will get worse <3
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	2. Reveal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeere's chapter two! 
> 
> Thanks for the kind comments on the first chapter and for reading <3

_I can be a good Padawan too, see? I can be useful…_

The question had haunted Obi-Wan for the past two months. Ever since the first time Anakin had thought it loudly in a speeder on Ithor—this Anakin, the real Anakin, the sitting-here-by-his-side-currently Anakin. His real Padawan.

Not dream Padawan, fake Padawan, nightmare Padawan. The _eyes-flutter-shut-in-pleasure-at-being-so-useful_ Padawan.

Obi-Wan had been so sure that his real Padawan, his argumentative, disobedient, and independent Padawan, would never think such a thing, in such a tone. It was a key support for his working theory that the dreams would never happen because life simply would never happen that way.

_I can be a good Padawan too, see?_

It had been such a fervent internal wish that it had saturated the Force around Anakin. It had been burnt across Obi-Wan’s mind. It was still burning, now. It was impossible, and it was upsetting. 

_I can be useful…_

Obi-Wan shifted further into a shadow, the light in his eyes from the setting sun was too bright. 

“What are we waiting for, Master?” Anakin was lounging beside him, far too comfortable for someone stretched out over several different chairs in the Temple Hanger. He began a light whine: “Why can’t I go inside and drop my bags yet? Ansion was awful. I want a nap.” The sunset was bathing him in an orange glow. Obi-Wan looked away.

“I just received a com from Master Windu, to expect a holo call in the next minute.”

“What does Windu want,” Anakin asked in a mild voice with what Obi-Wan recognized as a sneer in the Force. He sighed. 

“Master. _Master_ Windu, Anakin.” The rebuke was ignored, as always. Obi-Wan sighed again, louder. “He was not specific, it was just a request for contact. I’m sure I’ll find out…” the light flashed. “Imminently.” 

The look on Anakin’s face when he heard the name _Padmé Amidala_ made Obi-Wan have a very bad feeling indeed.

—

Hanging immobile in the force field on Geonosis a couple weeks later, restrained by a web of threatening bolts of energy, Obi-Wan tried to understand how things had escalated so quickly. He had almost died an alarming number of times in the past several days, let alone the weeks before that. Ever since he had jumped out of that window to catch the assassin’s drone, it felt in a way as if he had never stopped falling.

_Clones. An entire army. Millions. Ordered by a Jedi, for the Republic. Why? Who paid?_

_Why had Qui-Gon’s voice echoed in the Force last night telling Anakin to ‘Stop!’? Why was Anakin so angry?_

_What had Sifo-Dyas foreseen? The factories of battle droids? Why would a_ Jedi _order_ clones _?_

_Why was Anakin on Tatooine? Was it his mother, his dreams? Why couldn’t he be trusted to_ follow orders _?_

_Why would Jango Fett, template for the Republic’s_ _army come to a meeting with a cabal of Separatists?_

_Who hired him? Who was Tyranus?_

“Aren't you fed up with the corruption, the bureaucrats, the hypocrisy of it all?… Aren't you?” 

Count Dooku was looking at him, expectantly. 

Obi-Wan refocused on the man in front of him. He had been posturing for several minutes now, regally dressed and cordial of manner, as he attempted to convince Obi-Wan to join his cause. How this man was a former Jedi, Obi-Wan had no idea. No Jedi would wear such expensive looking velvets. 

“I beg your pardon,” Obi-Wan said. He’d seen Dooku give nearly the same exact speech many times on the holoNet, one of his many polemics against corruption in the Republic. It was not as if Obi-Wan even disagreed with him about any of it, either. Obi-Wan just strongly disagreed with what Dooku was doing about it. “Could you repeat the last bit there? I’m afraid my attention has wandered.”

Dooku looked less than impressed. He began again, more forcefully: “Qui-Gon and I agreed about the Senate and we agreed about the Council too. Qui-Gon’s renegade opinions made him immensely resented by the Council, as I’m sure you’re aware, grand-Pandawan.” Obi-Wan made a face at that. The Count had never met with him when he still was a Jedi, and now here he was claiming line privileges? Dooku pressed on, “If Qui-Gon had learned the truth that I have, he would never have gone along with any of it. He would have joined me if he knew _the truth_.” 

He paused dramatically. 

Obi-Wan dutifully played along. “The truth?”

“The truth!” Dooku’s voice was fervent. Obi-Wan wanted to lean his head back, away from the intensity of his gaze, but was immobilized by his blasted force field. Dooku’s tone was very serious: “What if I told you that the Republic was now under the control of the Dark Lords of the Sith?” 

Obi-Wan blinked. _The truth_. He blinked again, mind blank for a moment, before the full meaning of Dooku’s words struck like a bolt of lightning. His heart missed a beat, his stomach dropped. Memories of Naboo flashed, Qui-Gon, red laser barrier, anger, bisection—his mind was spinning, he felt nauseous. Senate missions flashed, harming instead of helping. Red lightsaber—No other _living_ Jedi had battled a Sith Lord. No one else knew how it felt. _Only he was a Sith in his dreams_. 

Obi-Wan frowned at himself, at the way his hands wanted to shake. _Dark Lords_. _Lord in the plural_. It was fear, this feeling. He’d had a panic reaction, an adrenaline dump—it had been awhile since he had done that. 

_Dark Lords of the Sith_. 

“Excuse me?” Obi-Wan replied finally, in his mildest tone. Dooku had been watching him think, which was irritating. “I’m afraid I will need you to be a _touch_ more specific.” Obi-Wan focused on the feeling of Dooku’s mind in the Force. It was slippery, as if Obi-Wan’s gaze couldn’t directly land on it. 

Dooku’s grin grew sharper. “Hundreds of Senators are now under the influence of a Sith Lord called Darth Sidious.” 

It was unexpectedly difficult to tell if he was lying. His emotions were clouded, occluded from view by something. Obi-Wan frowned and said, “Surely the Jedi would be aware of that.” It seemed an incredible claim.

“They are.” Dooku waved a hand. He sounded resentful and dismissive. “I tried many times to warn the Council, but they wouldn’t listen to me.”

_What._

Obi-Wan felt his lingering fear morph suddenly into a jumping, hot feeling that he gave immediately to the Force. 

“What exactly did you tell the Council?” Obi-Wan’s voice was sharper than he meant it to be. He swallowed and continued more neutrally. “How specific was your information, could it have been acted upon?”

For the last ten years, he had asked the Council over and over for leads, information, intel on the Sith. He wanted to know more about who he had fought, where the other Sith was, if that other Sith had recruited, anything at all that would give him a hint. He wanted to protect the Jedi, and see justice for Master Qui-Gon.

The Council had always denied him access to that information by letting him know that they would inform him when they had actionable intelligence, and that otherwise he needed to work on letting go of his attachments and focus on training his Padawan. Let them handle the Sith. Every time he’d asked, they said they had nothing _actionable_. 

Dooku looked slightly surprised at the question. “Yes, it was an extremely strong lead. The viceroy of the Trade Federation was once in league with this Darth Sidious,” he explained. Obi-Wan blinked—given the events on Naboo, that made a strange kind of sense. “He was betrayed ten years ago by the Dark Lord. He came to me for help. He told me everything. The Jedi Council would not believe him.”

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. “He came to you _after_ he informed the Jedi Council that he had been an ally of Darth Sidious, and they refused to believe him?”

“Yes, Obi-Wan.” Dooku nodded. “He told Master Yoda and Master Windu that he had been an ally of the Sith Lord.”

“They never followed up with him?” Obi-Wan could not believe that.

“No,” Dooku said. “At least they did not follow up with him, if they did at all. I doubt it. They were content to take a passive posture, wait for the Sith to reveal themselves rather than hunt overtly for them.” Obi-Wan studied his face, tried to sense if he was lying. The Force was frustratingly opaque. “Viceroy Gunray had to come to me with his concerns about the Sith. He didn’t know where else to turn.”

“I don’t understand.” Obi-Wan said, trying to see past his own personal frustration with the Council to the bigger picture. “Gunray said that Darth Sidious is in control of the Senate? How did he know that? Did he tell the Council that, too?”

“Yes, he did. Darth Sidious allegedly told the Viceroy that he controlled the Senate to the degree that he could make his embargo and invasion of a sovereign planet legal.” Dooku looked extremely grave. “The Council has known about that for the last decade, Obi-Wan. I tried many times to warn them, but they wouldn’t listen to me either. It’s one of the reasons I left the Order. They told me that they were ‘keeping an eye on the Senate,’ whatever that means… Once they sense the Dark Lord’s presence and realize their error, it will be too late.” For a moment, Obi-Wan could suddenly sense Dooku’s feelings, as if they emerged out from behind a cloud. They were roiling with a kind of angry longing. They quickly disappeared again. 

“Do you know where Darth Sidious is hiding, Count?” Obi-Wan figured that it couldn’t hurt to ask. “If you are truly seeking to end the threat of the Sith, surely you have done _something_ with that intelligence? Is that why you’ve formed your little army?”

Dooku looked very pleased. “Will you join me?”

“Almost certainly not,” Obi-Wan said, too frustrated to play coy. “I will not participate in the instigation of galactic civil war.” Dooku looked less pleased, now. Obi-Wan didn’t care; he still had the adrenaline in his system, he was emotional, he was _so close_ to finally getting a lead on Qui-Gon’s murderer. “I want to know more about the Sith, Count.” When Dooku looked evasive, Obi-Wan said much too sharply: “Tell me what you know!” 

Dooku opened and closed his mouth, frowned, and raised an eyebrow at him. “I wouldn’t have expected you to try a mind trick on me.” Obi-Wan blanched. “Or perhaps that was unintentional.” He looked very thoughtful. “That was sloppy, of you, Master Kenobi. Surprisingly powerful, but sloppy.” Obi-Wan steadied his breathing.

“I… apologize.” Obi-Wan ground out. It had been many years since he had done that, too.

“It happens.” Dooku had a glint in his eye, now, and something almost like a smile. “Why would you be loyal to a corrupt Senate if it’s loyal to the Sith? Why would you be loyal to the Council if they’re loyal to the Senate? Why won’t you join me, Obi-Wan?”

“I am absolutely certain that starting a war is not the correct solution, Dooku. You don’t need to throw the entire galaxy into chaos to kill a Sith.”

“Are you sure? Because—” Dooku’s com beeped and he looked down. “Apologies, Master Kenobi. Until next time.”

“Wait, no, stop,” Obi-Wan said, eyes widening, as Dooku left the cell. He called after him, “Dooku! Where is Darth Sidious?” The door closed, and silence remained. 

_What._

Obi-Wan felt completely off-centered by the conversation he’d just had. It all aligned with the mythology of Dooku that he’d heard, the story of the noble renegade, but something felt wrong about it, something felt sticky. Obi-Wan didn’t like that he couldn’t sense Dooku’s emotions. In the Force, Dooku hadn’t felt like any other Jedi who Obi-Wan had encountered before. Could that be what Yoda meant, when the dark side of the Force is hiding something? 

_The Council knew for a decade…_

How could Windu and Yoda have known? Was Dooku lying? Why couldn’t he tell if Dooku was lying? 

Obi-Wan hadn’t accidentally mind-tricked anyone since he was a teenager, that was embarrassing. Obi-Wan had _lost his cool._ That was unacceptable, but understandable given the week he’d been having.

By the time guards came back to take him to his execution, he had regained his composure. 

Time to face death. Again. At least Anakin was on Tatooine, this might get messy.

It did—of course, it did. 

—

Anakin moved his metal fingers glumly, practicing with the neural interface. He was determined. He had to get perfectly adjusted to the prosthetic, immediately—he needed to be able to use his lightsaber even better than before. Now. This could never happen again. Though, in the future it would probably be just an inconvenience to get his right hand cut off, not the end of his day. The thought was oddly comforting. 

“How is the feedback?” Obi-Wan sat down heavily in thearmchair opposite his couch, the Jedi-approved minimalism of their furniture making them both slightly uncomfortable. Obi-Wan carefully set his very hot tea on the low table between them. He was looking over Anakin, studying his face. Anakin didn’t want that. Anakin didn’t want Obi-Wan to look too closely at him. Everything he had done on Tatooine was probably written all over his expression, and he couldn’t lie to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan _always could tell_ if Anakin was lying. 

“I’m getting used to it,” he replied, flatly. “I will be used to it soon.”

“I’m sure you will be.” Obi-Wan reassured him. He looked at the hand again, his face going blank. He’d been doing that a lot since Anakin got back from Naboo earlier that day. Anakin wondered what exactly caused it, as he couldn’t read Obi-Wan’s face or his Force signature, as usual. Anakin clenched his fist and Obi-Wan looked away before saying, “I have a few questions for you, Padawan.”

Of course. The first time they were alone together in a month and he’d gotten maybe one hour to relax in their rooms before an inquisition. Anakin took a deep, slow breath. “What are they, Master?”

“Why were you on Tatooine?” Obi-Wan asked, mildly. Anakin felt his stomach drop. First question, already a mild tone. He didn’t answer immediately, and Obi-Wan looked at him pointedly. “Was it your dreams?”

“Yes,” Anakin said shortly. “They were worse.” 

“So you left Naboo?” Obi-Wan blew on his tea before venturing a sip. He made a face and set it back down, too hot.

Anakin nodded, and then at Obi-Wan’s expectant look said, “Yes.”

Obi-Wan waited for more explanation that was not forthcoming. He sighed and said, “Senator Amidala went with you,” Obi-Wan looked closely at him. “Did you ask her to come with you?”

“No.” Anakin said. “She offered.”

“That was kind of her.” Obi-Wan’s voice was level. “You would have been expelled from the Jedi Order if you’d left her behind.”

“I know, Master,” Anakin said. “I didn’t though, so it doesn’t matter.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him, and Anakin studied his arm closely, keeping his eyes down.

“Would you like a hint of what the possible consequences of your little escapade might have been?” Obi-Wan’s voice was dry.

Obi-Wan paused and waited for his acknowledgement. Anakin nodded. It was a well-known signal that a lecture was coming. Anakin swallowed, determined to listen without getting aroused inappropriately for once. 

Obi-Wan sipped his tea and set it down, collecting his thoughts. Then he looked seriously at Anakin and began, “I spent minutes, crucial minutes, Anakin, searching for your signal in order to retransmit my message on Geonosis. I had just witnessed a critically important meeting between the key figures of the Separatist movement and Count Dooku. I had a lot of essential information to report. After I spent _minutes_ finding your signal, I began making the report. I got only halfway through the introduction, when I was apprehended by droidekas, as you doubtless witnessed in the holo. If I hadn’t thought to widen the search to include Tatooine, because I suspected that was where you had gone, I would have wasted so much time _that message would have never gotten off Geonosis._ ” 

Obi-Wan paused for a breath. Anakin was staring at him, now, his face flushed. 

“Do you understand, Anakin? Without that message, I would be _dead_ , the Senate would not have passed the Military Creation Act when it did, and the Chancellor would not have executive power. The entire battle of Geonosis might have never happened. The Republic might have found out about the droid army in a much more catastrophic way, without preparation or defense. It is possible that _millions_ could have died before the Republic could muster defense. It was one of the most important messages I’ll ever send in my entire life and I almost failed because _I_ _needed to have known that you left Naboo, Anakin_.” 

The silence was very loud. Anakin nodded as he shakily let out the breath that he had been holding, eyes fixed on the floor now. He said quietly, “Yes, Master. I understand.” The admonishment had made him feel flooded with heat, almost nauseated by the magnitude of Obi-Wan’s rebuke. 

The weight of his choices hung on him—so many choices, so many mistakes. The last few weeks had ripped him apart, confronting him with every weakness—his mother’s brutalized condition when he felt her death in his arms, Padmé’s cool rejection after his impassioned marriage proposal, losing his dominant hand through his own arrogance, _almost getting Obi-Wan killed_.

Anakin wanted to disappear. He looked up at Obi-Wan and nodded again. 

“I really hope you do understand, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, looking very stern for a moment before his eyes softened slightly and he asked, “What happened with your mother?” 

Anakin clenched his fist involuntarily. He felt all of his muscles tense, felt himself breathe faster. He couldn’t talk about this with Obi-Wan. This needed to end. His eyes flicked up to his bedroom door, contemplating escape.

“Don’t leave, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was a rebuke. “I can feel your desire to run in the Force. Stay put.”

Anakin felt a swell of resentment, an urge to do it anyway. He didn’t need to listen to Obi-Wan. _It was all his fault._ He looked Obi-Wan’s deceptively relaxed posture over, testing the cracks in the façade, gauging the risk. He swallowed. Obi-Wan’s eyes were steel. They were apparently going to have this conversation, and now. Anakin paused for as long as he could, moving his fingers deliberately. Obi-Wan was about to make him talk, he knew it. _Obi-Wan didn’t deserve to know, it was all his fault._ Obi-Wan took another sip of tea and looked expectant. 

Anakin’s shoulders slumped a little and he said curtly, “She’s dead.” He tried to steady his shaky breathing.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” Obi-Wan’s eyes were moving on him. “I feel there is more to the story.”

Anakin glared up at him. _He didn’t want to do this_. He spoke tersely, “Yes.” 

Obi-Wan was quiet for a long moment, nodding absently. “The night before your arrival on Geonosis,” Obi-Wan began slowly, and Anakin felt like he was about to be crushed by falling rock. “I felt something peculiar in the Force.”

“Did you?” Anakin asked, as neutrally as possible with his heart pounding in his ears and his breath caught in his lungs.

“It was as if Master Qui-Gon were speaking, but he was not speaking to me.” Obi-Wan sounded genial and curious, which made Anakin anxious. “It was as if I could hear my deceased Master telling you to _stop_ doing something. It was very strange, Anakin, especially considering the timing.”

“The timing?” Anakin _didn’t want to talk about the worst day of his life_ , he didn’t know how to get away from this.

“Oddly enough, it coincided with the largest surge of pain and anger I’ve ever felt from you. I was a parsec away, it should have been impossible for me to sense you at that distance. That has never happened before.” Obi-Wan said, rearranging his pillow behind him before resettling and kicking his feet up on the low table between them. “I would like to know why.”

Anakin felt cornered. “I was there when she died.” Obi-Wan folded his hands on his lap, looking expectant. Anakin looked down and spoke the rest silently through the Force. He could think things that he couldn’t say. _“She was very badly hurt—tortured. They only keep captured women alive for one thing, Master. She’d been there for… weeks probably. My_ mother _. For as long as I had been dreaming about her, she’d been a captive, brutalized, Obi-Wan! She was so badly hurt, in the worst possible ways! They were_ touching _her! My_ mother! _If I had gone earlier, I could have saved her, saved her life, but I didn’t go because you told me not to! And she died in agony!”_ His breathing was getting labored, his muscles tensed as he sat rigidly on the small sofa. “ _You told me the dreams weren’t real, but they were real. You were wrong!_ ” 

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said seriously. “I was wrong. You’d never told me about any prophetic dreams before, only upsetting but ordinary nightmares. You are very, very strong with the living Force, but you have never shown any unusual skills with the unifying Force.” 

Anakin looked up sharply.He accidentally projected the thought, “ _Obi-Wan didn’t take me seriously because he thinks I’m weak?”_

Obi-Wan frowned. _“It’s not that you’re not very powerful, Anakin._ ” Obi-Wan’s voice was coming from inside his head, now. Obi-Wan was silently looking at him, his mouth in a firm line, and his voice was inside him. Anakin blushed for a reason other than anger. He loved when his Master used the bond. _“It’s just that usually dreams first manifest younger. Or so I had learned, and I didn’t know that it would be different for you. I should have guessed, you are very strong with the Force. I wonder if instead you were sensing the present rather than the future, but I’m not sure. Did you see her death or just her suffering?”_

Anakin closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him, curling into the warmth of Obi-Wan’s mind as long as it was tangled in his. Trying to focus on how the words sounded, rather than their meaning. He projected back slowly, _“Her suffering. I think. The dreams were different than any other I’ve ever had, hazy and emotional. I remember waking up feeling sick.”_ Obi-Wan looked concerned, knowing. _“Would you have let me go? I know the Council wouldn’t have let me rescue her.”_

Obi-Wan frowned at him when he referenced the Council. “You’re right about that, they would not have let you go. However,” and he looked vaguely apologetic, “For once, I’m not sure they would have been wrong.” 

Anakin first noticed Obi-Wan’s unhappy tone when he referenced the Council. Then, he processed the words and felt betrayed. He looked over to meet Obi-Wan’s piercing look. 

Obi-Wan asked, “What happened on Tatooine, Anakin?” His eyes demanded answers. “Why could I hear my Master?” He pushed the rest silently: “ _What brought him out of the Force? What did he break out of death to try to stop? What did you do, Padawan?”_

Anakin was frozen. He couldn’t lie, Obi-Wan would know. He couldn’t tell the truth, Obi-Wan would hate him and kick him out of the Order. He couldn’t remain silent, he couldn’t talk. 

Obi-Wan was watching him, waiting. 

Anakin swallowed and projected, _“I was angry when she died.”_ Obi-Wan nodded like he knew that already. _“I defeated some unarmed men.”_ Obi-Wan looked unconvinced. Anakin took a deep breath. _“I didn’t stop after. Weeks, Master. She’d been there for weeks. Everyone in that village knew she was there.”_ Anakin looked at the ceiling, breathing hard, blinking rapidly. _“They’re all animals. I slaughtered them all, like animals.”_ His fists clenched, he wanted to throw something. “ _I hate them!_ ”

Obi-Wan ran his hand down his beard. “Not just unarmed men, then.” Anakin shook his head, eyes shifting down to his hands, relaxing the left and focusing on the right. He rotated the wrist, touched the fingers and thumb together, slowly and then quickly, waiting for Obi-Wan to do something, say something. 

Obi-Wan’s voice was both knowing and disappointed. “You were angry while you did this?” Anakin nodded. “When it was over, how did you feel?” Anakin frowned at the question. Obi-Wan’s voice filled his mind: “ _I mean, did you feel full of the Force, full of power, full of life? Did you feel a surge of energy and strength beyond anything you’d ever known before in your life? Could you do bigger jumps, move bigger objects? When it was done, did you look at what you’d done and been surprised?_ ” 

Anakin jerked his head up and looked at his Master like he’d never seen him before. “Yes, I did feel that. I did that.”

“ _You touched the dark side, Anakin_.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “ _Don’t look at me like that. I know. I have once before, on Naboo, after Qui-Gon was cut down by the Sith. Not to the extent it sounds like you did, but I know how it feels when it’s over. It was a surreal, hyper-real state of being, and I remember how it felt very clearly. I remember the lack of control. Once you’d started, you couldn’t stop._ ”

Anakin nodded slowly. He was struggling to comprehend Obi-Wan’s reaction. He had been so afraid that Obi-Wan would hate him, cast him out, and turn him over to the Council, that he had tried to hide it, tried to lie about it. “The Chancellor said you’d hate me,” slipped out of his mouth before he could censor himself. Obi-Wan’s face grew stormy. 

“You told the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic about this, and he told you not to tell me? What else did he say about it?” Obi-Wan glared at him now, his tone was icy. Anakin shivered. _“I cannot believe you told a politician about this_. _”_

Anakin laughed humorlessly at that. “Two, actually.” He looked back at his hand. “Padmé knows.”

“Senator Amidala, you mean?” Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. “ _Padmé? Really, Anakin?_ ” He shook his head. “Setting that aside, for now.” His tone was still cold. Anakin swallowed. “I need you to be extremely specific when you tell me what the Chancellor said to you about your violence on Tatooine.”

Anakin frowned. “ _He said it was understandable, given the circumstances, and in a way to be admired. At least I administered justice, on a planet like Tatooine otherwise there would be no recourse. It’s not like the Hutts have a judicial system._ ”

“I was under the impression you killed women and children, Anakin.” Hearing Obi-Wan say it out loud was horrific—it was the most chilling Obi-Wan had ever sounded. If all the talking in the bond and time Anakin had just spent communing with his Master’s mind wasn’t already making him feel distracted and inappropriately aroused, the knife’s blade of Obi-Wan voice would be enough. Pity it was pointed at him.

“ _Yes,_ ” Anakin agreed, silently. “ _I know that wasn’t justice_.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan stood up sharply, and began to pace. Anakin’s eyes followed his progress. Obi-Wan’s shoulders were set, his steps deliberate and measured, his expression still dark. After a few moments, his eyes slid over to meet Anakin’s and continued: “I am certainly pleased to hear that you, Anakin, Padawan, _you_ , understand that small distinction, between mass slaughter and judicial proceedings.” Anakin shivered again, and shifted on the sofa. “It is most distressing to me, however, to discover that it is the opinion of our dear _Supreme Chancellor of the Galaxy_ that a proportionate and admirable response to a murder is to indiscriminately slaughter an entire village in return! Why does that not bother you, Anakin? Why did that not sound off, to you? Why can’t you see _in the moment_ when something like that is wrong?” 

Anakin shrugged and shook his head. “He cares about me, that’s all. He was just trying to be kind to me, Master.” 

“No, he was flattering you! Humoring you!” Obi-Wan looked like he wanted to strangle him. Anakin swallowed and looked down. “Do you know what a mentor should do?” Anakin shook his head. “What I’m doing right now!”

“Yelling at me?” Anakin ventured, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Yes!” Obi-Wan glared at him. “At _least!_ It’s not _kindness_ , it’s not _caring_ if you let someone become worse than their worst self! If you encourage it! He’s the leader of the Republic, Anakin. The _most powerful person in the galaxy_ , arguably. Why is he spending his extraordinarily—” Anakin swallowed and felt blood rush to his cock as Obi-Wan crisply sounded out all seven of the syllables of ‘extraordinarily’ with extra emphases, as though Anakin were slow on the uptake. “—valuable time telling you over tea to go ahead and just _feel free_ to deal out summary executions of _civilians_?” Anakin felt flushed. “He should not be encouraging his Jedi Knights to do extrajudicial killing at whim!”

“Not at whim,” Anakin muttered resentfully.

“I’m ever so sorry, what was that?” Obi-Wan had frozen where he stood across the room. He was looking at Anakin with an intensity Anakin hadn’t ever seen before. “Do you have a question or comment, perhaps a concern, about what I’ve said?” His voice was very mild. “I would appreciate it, as a general rule, _Padawan_ , if you would desist from the commentary under your breath.” His tone had grown dangerous. “Care to share?” 

“No,” Anakin said. “I don’t have anything to say. Sorry, Master”

Obi-Wan continued to glare. “I have grown extremely tired of the backchat, Anakin.”

“I’m very sorry, Master.” Anakin tried again.

“Very sorry, yes, I’ll bet you are,” Obi-Wan said, pausing with an uncharacteristically menacing look before he continued, “I don’t even want to know about what you did with the Senator, it’s written all over your face that something did. I expected better of you, but considering everything else that happened, this _large_ violation of the Code is just a minor footnote to your _larger_ transgressions!” Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “It is not truly minor, though, Padawan. Not to me.” Obi-Wan’s voice was soft and lethal. “I will need to know if this will be an ongoing issue, Anakin.”

“No, Master.” Anakin felt cornered. “She said we can’t.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was ice. “Well, at least _someone_ in that room had the ability to think critically about the future more than thirty seconds in advance. I am unsurprised to hear it was not you.” 

Anakin shifted on the sofa again, wanting to get up before remembering he had been ordered to stay. He needed to have some private time, a cold shower, _something_. Crash a speeder into a wall, fly a ship into a star, _something_. Anything away from Obi-Wan’s accented, disappointed voice, his sleek, predatory pacing, his deep, penetrating stare. “Do you have any other questions, Master? Or can we be done now?”

Obi-Wan looked livid. _“Can we be done now?”_ His voice slid through the bond, flooding Anakin’s mind with incredulous anger. Anakin closed his eyes. _“I think we have more to talk about.”_ Obi-Wan’s intensity made him shiver. Anakin swallowed and fixed his posture before he swayed. His master’s mind was intoxicating—Anakin felt like he was burning up.

“What is it, Master?” Anakin asked. All the terrible things he hadn’t wanted to share were already said. He didn’t have anything left to confess, so what else could Obi-Wan want?

Obi-Wan was pacing again. “Do you know how hard I have tried for the past decade to give you the training you would need to avoid _this exact situation?_ How hard I have tried to teach you the way of the Jedi, so you would _not touch the dark side and murder a village?_ ” Obi-Wan shot him an extremely dirty look, and Anakin winced. “I think we need to discuss the consequences for that, Anakin.”

“There’s nothing I can do to make it right, Master. I know that.” Anakin spoken slowly, at a loss. “I can’t undo it.”

“I know, it is terribly hard to un-murder a child.” Obi-Wan had made the circuit and was standing directly behind the sofa, now. The hair on Anakin's neck raised, the Force almost pushing out a warning. “As this atrocity was not committed in the Republic, I doubt there is a way to prosecute you, so _legally_ what you’ve done is invisible,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “It is not invisible in the Force, Anakin. You have darkness clinging to you.”

“What?” Anakin twisted in his seat, looking up at Obi-Wan. “What do you mean?”

“I can feel it in your mind, Padawan.” Obi-Wan looked intent and Anakin felt a wash of his Master’s mind flooding through his own, prodding, testing, evaluating. Anakin breathed out sharply, eyes fluttering shut. He felt himself flushed with inappropriate arousal again, felt dizzy with the bond. The feeling retreated immediately and he let out a shaky breath. Obi-Wan’s voice was disgusted. “You are not feeling nearly guilty enough.”

Anakin hated that Obi-Wan could know that at a glance, and worried that he knew about the fact that Anakin was hard because of Obi-Wan’s chastisement. He replied defensively, shoving away inappropriate thoughts, “What would be the point of feeling guilty? I can’t undo it, I can’t fix it. I still hate them, I will never forgive them, not ever, for what they did to her.” His voice was rising in strength, pushing back at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan looked down at him, grim. Anakin stood up sharply so they were facing each other with the sofa as a barrier. “Why should I feel guilty?”

“There’s the anger,” Obi-Wan said dangerously. “I felt how afraid you were of me when I sat down, Padawan. You were afraid of my judgment more than you were afraid of the magnitude of what you’ve done. You should be even more afraid of how you’ve changed.”

“I don’t feel any different,” Anakin said, throwing his arms up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Obi-Wan tracked the motion of his arms and clenched his jaw before snapping, “I’m surprised Master Yoda hasn’t confronted you with a lightsaber yet, let alone Master Windu. Have you been in front of either of them yet? Before Naboo? Since you returned?”

“No, Master, you sent me back with—” Anakin swallowed. “—Senator Amidala to Naboo directly after Geonosis. That’s where they fixed my hand.” He clenched it and raised it at Obi-Wan. “You met me in the hanger. I haven’t seen them yet.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan said curtly, looking quickly away from his hand again. Anakin wondered again why he kept doing that. “That is remarkably fortuitous, Padawan.” He began pacing, moving away from their standoff over the sofa. His voice was cold. 

“Why?” Anakin asked. “What would they do? Are you going to hand me over to them, to the Council? Is that going to be my punishment? What will they do to me?” The questions spilled out. “Will you report me to them?”

“Obviously not.” Obi-Wan said. “I would already have done so. _Think_ , Anakin. Pay attention to what is happening, and stop asking questions to which you should already know the answer.”

Anakin looked at him and sat back down. “I don’t understand, I’m sorry Master. Why not hand me over? That’s what I expected you to do.”

“The Council doesn't deserve to know,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin was startled by the venom in the words. “They would do more to ruin your life for this than they have in the last decade to fight _actual Sith!_ ” 

Anakin’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Oh yes, I learned some _very_ interesting things about the Council from our esteemed Count during my visit with him on Geonosis.” Obi-Wan’s pacing was approaching his truly angry walk. Anakin watched him swagger, and felt another spike of arousal. He wondered if Obi-Wan could feel it in the Force. Probably. Obi-Wan was inexplicably the most powerful Jedi with mind tricks, and he seemed extraordinarily sensitive to how Anakin was feeling.

“Was Dooku telling the truth?” Anakin was cautious. “He fought us with a red blade, Master.”

“I noticed that, thank you, Padawan.” Anakin flushed. Obi-Wan’s voice was uncharacteristically charged with emotion. “He told me that the Republic is under the control of the Dark Lords of the Sith, Anakin. He told me the Senate is run by a Sith named Darth Sidious who controls hundreds of Senators.”

“That’s...” Anakin wasn’t sure what to say. He hated the Senate, thought it was a corrupt, useless bunch of slavers, but being run by the Sith? “Did he have proof?”

“He had good information.” Obi-Wan looked very frustrated. “The Council knows, Anakin.”

Anakin’s head jerked up. He considered the implications with unfocused eyes. “They know the Senate is controlled by the Sith?”

“Yes. They do, Anakin. They’ve known for as long as I’ve known you.” Obi-Wan said.

“They blindly follow the Senate’s orders! All these awful missions from Senators we’ve had in the last couple years… Have we been helping the Sith? Master? Has the Council been tracking them down? Surely they must have followed the lead and found nothing, right? The Jedi would know if the Sith was controlling hundreds of Senators!”

“One would think so, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, nodding along as Anakin processed the information out loud. “One would think so.” He paused his pacing and looked at him intently. “I personally find it terribly interesting that the leader of the Separatists is also definitely dark, if not a Sith himself. Can you guess why, Anakin? Can you put those pieces together?”

“If Sith are controlling both the Republic and the Separatists…” Anakin tried, keeping his voice level. Obi-Wan’s tone sent a shiver down his spine. His cock had never been harder. “The war is the Sith fighting the Sith.”

“That is one hypothesis.” Obi-Wan said. “Give me another.” He was drawing closer.

Anakin tried to think beyond his haze of arousal. “The Sith are allies, not rivals.”

“Correct,” Obi-Wan said softly. “Very good, Anakin.”

Anakin breathed a steadying breath. “Thank you, Master.” Obi-Wan’s tone made him want to get on his knees. 

“You’re projecting again, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, standing very close now. Anakin looked up from his seat on the sofa, he couldn’t read the look on Obi-Wan’s face. “Kneel.”

Anakin blinked. “What?”

“You wanted to get on your knees.” Obi-Wan’s tone was unrecognizable. “I think it would be an appropriate position for you, after everything you’ve done.

Anakin couldn’t process the words, so he slid off the couch and onto his knees, kneeling before Obi-Wan, looking up at him tentatively. This was different. Obi-Wan’s eyes were different. Something had changed about him, since Geonosis, Anakin was realizing late. If Obi-Wan was no longer loyal to the Council, had never been loyal to the Senate, and refused to join Dooku and the Separatists, who was he loyal to now?

_“A very good question, Padawan. An important question.”_ Came from Obi-Wan across the bond. _“Who deserves my loyalty?”_

“I don’t know, Master.” Anakin’s eyes fell to the floor. “I don’t know anything.”

“That is not true, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was too kind. Anakin shivered. “You are skilled enough with a blade to kill children, which is quite an accomplishment.” Obi-Wan ran his hand through Anakin’s short hair, around and down to grab on to Anakin’s Padawan braid. “I really should cut this and banish you for what you’ve done, you’re a murderer, a tainted Jedi—” Obi-Wan mused. Fear shot through Anakin. “—and yet I have no desire to do so. What am I, now? To allow such evil to be rewarded?” He pulled hard on the braid, and Anakin made a small noise in the back of his throat. “Something to say, Padawan?”

“N-no, Master.” Anakin said, staring at the mask of Obi-Wan’s face, his braid still in Obi-Wan’s grip. Being on his knees and looking up was making him feel dizzy, his cock was so hard. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“You are not sorry for the right things, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, letting go of his braid with another small tug. “You don’t learn the lessons you should learn.”

“ _I’m so sorry, I want to do better please, how do I do better?_ ” The words flooded across the bond. Anakin looked up, feeling his face burning. He felt like he was begging for something to hold on to—some way out, some way to get away from himself. His breathing was heavy, he wanted Obi-Wan’s hand back on his braid, touching him. He wanted Obi-Wan to touch him so badly he felt like he was on fire. “ _What should I do, Master?_ ” 

Obi-Wan’s face was that odd blank expression again. Anakin had seen it so often over the past five or so years, Obi-Wan’s face would go blank, his Force signature would disappear, he would leave the room. Anakin never understood why, what caused it, what it meant. Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked to his hand again, drawn as if by a magnet. Anakin hated that, he couldn’t help projecting: “ _Why do you keep looking at my hand? Don’t look at it. It’s awful, I don’t like it when you look at it, I’m sorry I failed you, I was so angry at Dooku, I was so mad, still mad from Tatooine, Padmé fell from our transport and you made me leave her, I was in a rage, I couldn’t stop to think, I’m so sorry, you almost died, Master, I—_ ” 

Obi-Wan cut him off. “Stop.” Anakin froze. “Be silent.” Anakin swallowed hard. Obi-Wan spoke quietly. “Dooku is the living master of blade-to-blade combat. Makashi was always his specialty. I am not angry that you were defeated by him. I, too, had to be rescued by Yoda. I do not think your hand is awful. I look at it for a different reason. It does not bother me.”

Anakin moaned quietly in relief, Obi-Wan’s words lifting a crushing weight from his chest that he hadn’t known had even been there. Obi-Wan frowned and sent a strong suggestion to explain the sound through the Force. Anakin said, “Padmé…” before he realized he was answering, speaking out loud. He stopped and licked his lips, feeling confused. _Had Obi-Wan just mind tricked him?_

Obi-Wan looked furious, and repeated the suggestion, stronger. _He had._ Anakin swallowed and gave him the answer: _“Senator Amidala, she thought that it was too cold. She never said it out loud, but I could feel in the Force how much she hated it. Hated the feel of cold metal on her skin.”_ Anakin whispered silently into the Force.

“Why were you touching her skin, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, voice knowing and dangerous. “Why were you laying hands on the Senator, Padawan?”

“We…” Anakin said. He looked down at the ground, and shivered. _“I love her.”_

“You what?” Obi-Wan grabbed his short hair and pulled his head back so he could look him in the eyes. _“You what?”_

_“I loved her, Master”_ Anakin projected. _“I wanted to be with her forever, she said no.”_

Obi-Wan tightened his grip on Anakin’s hair. Anakin whimpered. “She said no? No to what?” 

Anakin saw the danger in what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t possibly stop now that he found a large crack in Obi-Wan’s façade. It was the crack he had always been searching for—the crack that might unleash real consequences, and let him see Obi-Wan as he really was, not the mask he always had to see. Anakin pushed on the crack, he couldn’t help it. “I asked her to marry me,” Anakin said.

“You would have left?” Obi-Wan roughly shoved Anakin’s head back, releasing his hair. He was livid. “You were planning to leave the Order? _Leave me?_ ”

“I wasn’t going to leave the Order.” Anakin said, reeling slightly. “We would have kept it a secret.”

Obi-Wan glared at him, fists clenched. His voice was a lash. “You would be the least capable person in the entire Order of the subtlety required to pull that off, Padawan.”

Anakin looked up. The chastisement felt good. He wanted more. He spoke insolently. “Why?”

“You cannot keep secrets, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said sharply. “You are the most openly _emotional_ person in the entire Order.” He spat it like a rebuke. “The Council would rip you apart in seconds. You have no ability to present a public face, no ability to contain yourself.”

“Like you do?” Anakin said. His eyes were focused forward, on the way Obi-Wan’s tabards fell down his chest and stomach, tucked behind the obi and belt, down to hide the fastening of his pants. He stared where Obi-Wan’s cock must be, but was concealed. Obi-Wan was always shielded behind about fifteen layers of clothes. Fifteen layers of façade. 

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said slowly. “Like I do.”

“ _Master… please…_ ” Anakin looked up at him from his knees. Obi-Wan had been standing over him, looking down at him, keeping him there for a long time. “ _What can I do? What are the consequences? How can I make it right?_ ”

Obi-Wan looked unsettled, again. “You can never make it _right_ , Padawan…” Obi-Wan took a deep breath and smoothed his face, but his eyes were still full of emotion. “Over the last few weeks, you have broken your vows in the most serious ways possible—in all the possible ways to break them. What you have done is _indefensible_ —” Obi-Wan broke off and swallowed. 

Anakin stared as Obi-Wan breathed heavily, trying to regain his composure. It was as if the magnitude of Anakin’s crimes were washing over him again. What Obi-Wan was willing to accept, willing to help conceal. Obi-Wan’s voice had began intentionally mild and genial, as usual, but the emotions had began to leak through as he lost control, coloring his words, tinting them with rage. 

Obi-Wan continued after a long moment, words clipped and precise. “I have given a decade of my life to make you into a Jedi. You have no idea how important it was that you be the best Jedi possible.” The anger was coming through the cracks. Anakin was entranced, Obi-Wan was speaking louder and louder: “You have no idea of the implications of what you have done. No idea what it means for me, for us, for the galaxy. All of this, the Council, you—” 

Obi-Wan turned sharply away from him again and began pacing, his angriest walk. Anakin was stunned. Obi-Wan was still talking. “You have no idea what this means. The implications, Anakin. This is not how our lives were supposed to go! The Code should have been enough! The Council was supposed to lead me—lead us!— in the right direction! I have lived my entire life, given everything I had, trying to obey the rules, play everything by the rules, stay on the path! To avoid this exact outcome, Anakin! You have no idea what you’ve done.” Obi-Wan was suddenly standing in front of him again, eyes blazing.

Anakin had not moved from his kneeling position. He looked back up and projected: “ _Please, Master, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what any of that means, I don’t know what’s wrong, I only want to help._ ”

“Oh, I know.” Obi-Wan’s voice was unsteady, “I know how much you want to be _useful_. I’ve known since the very moment you were born, when I had my first dream of fucking you, Anakin.” He laughed hollowly as Anakin’s head jerked back, looking up, eyes wide. “I’ll bet you didn’t know that!” 

Anakin stared, frozen. Obi-Wan’s face was suddenly full of emotion, his brow furling, lip curling into a snarl. “Well, I’ve seen this coming since I was sixteen! I have done everything I could to change it. The future _is not fixed._ Master Yoda always told me: _“Always in motion is the future.”_ and _“Your path you must decide.”_ I followed the rules, I followed the path, and I failed! Thank you very much, Anakin. You’ve made my worst nightmares come true!”

The severity of the reprimand from Obi-Wan, the slowly escalating rage in his voice, the way his accent shaped the words, the concentration on Anakin, the look in his eyes—Anakin felt drunk. He didn’t understand how he had done this, how he had made Obi-Wan focus on him like this. He almost slurred when he said, “I’m so sorry, Master. Please… What can I do? For you? What can I do? What do you need me to do?” 

Obi-Wan looked like Anakin slapped him.

Anakin reached his hand out and grabbed the end of Obi-Wan’s tabard, tugging on it gently. “Please, Master.” Anakin needed this. Everything had gone so wrong, everything was so out of control. “Tell me what to do.” Anakin looked up and searched his Master’s eyes. Obi-Wan looked almost afraid, Anakin could see him, really see him. Anakin thought, “ _I can’t control myself, I need you to take me, please, have me instead, I can’t do this, please, I’m giving myself, Master—_ ”

“Stop.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “Now.” 

Obi-Wan was still for a moment. Anakin held his breath, waiting. 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, his gaze newly dark and intent. His voice was rough, and his hand came down to absently stroke Anakin’s hair. “I understand now.” He let out a shaky breath. “I finally understand why.”

“Why what, Master?” Anakin whispered. “Why what?”

“For more than half my life, I assumed it would be all my fault. I would be the one who broke the rules. I would be the one who crossed the line, became a molester, an abuser. I never understood how I could, or why I would. That’s why I felt _safe_. I understand now, that I was wrong. I was never safe. It was never me. It was always you. You need this. You were born needing this.” 

Anakin was confused but recognized the word _need_ and nodded, his eyes seeking Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan searched his vulnerable expression and asked, “You are asking me to take care of you?” Anakin nodded again. “You need me to do whatever I want?”

“Yes,” Anakin said quietly, eyes fixing on the floor, blushing fiercely. “Whatever you want.”

“You need me to tell you what to do?” Obi-Wan’s tone was still dark. 

Anakin nodded again. “Yes, Master.” 

Obi-Wan’s voice slid lower. “Or else you slaughter villages and attempt to marry _politicians_?” 

Anakin recoiled slightly. “I guess, Master.”

“You _guess?_ ” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Do I have a choice, even? Did I ever?” Obi-Wan’s questions sounded almost wistful. “Who would you be if I’d turned you away at nine? Apparently I really should have. Qui-Gon and the Force were rather insistent that I keep you, though…” Obi-Wan shrugged and shook his head. “What would you do if I turned you away now?”

Anakin looked up helplessly at him. “I don’t know, Master.” His shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Nothing good, I’d imagine,” Obi-Wan said. “Certainly nothing wise.”

Anakin swallowed. “No, Master.”

Obi-Wan turned and began to pace again. Anakin watched him walk away with displeasure. “Now that I understand, Anakin, it changes things slightly. I need to keep you here, that’s the first problem we must address.” Obi-Wan’s mind swept through Anakin’s again, tasting and testing. Anakin wobbled. “The darkness is not too deep.” He sighed in relief. “I suspect because your crimes were an extension of a misguided sense of righteous indignation, rather than lust or greed, that you were only lightly tainted. Only atonement will truly remove the stain, though, and you seem extremely resistant to that idea. We have to figure out how to keep you in the Order, I—” 

Anakin made to get up and Obi-Wan shot him a disapproving look, throwing up a hand and immobilizing him with the Force. “You will not move yet.” He came closer. “I told you to kneel, and I have not altered my request. Do you want your agency back quite so quickly, Anakin? You seemed awfully interested in giving it away.” He dropped his hand, freeing Anakin. “Stay put.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin gasped. “Thank you, Master.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan went back to his pacing. Anakin resisted the urge to pout. He watched Obi-Wan’s progress instead, taking in his neat hair, his tidy robes, his shiny boots. Obi-Wan was always so well put together, so composed. He always seemed to know what to do.

“I assure you that I do not, Padawan.” Obi-Wan said absently over his shoulder. “Are you projecting or just thinking?”

“Thinking,” Anakin said, a little unsettled. “I wasn’t projecting at all.”

“Curious,” Obi-Wan said. “I was not listening intentionally either. Can you hear my thoughts?”

“No, Master,” Anakin said, frustrated. “I have never once been able to enter your mind. No matter the situation, you’re always closed.”

“Interesting, and good.” Obi-Wan sounded distracted.

“Good?” Anakin’s voice was sulky. “Why can’t we really open the bond? We never have. Why don’t you want to?” He pushed out the questions, finally getting to ask the one thing that had bothered him since he was nine. “Why don’t you want the bond?”

Obi-Wan laughed shortly. “It’s not about wanting it, Anakin.” He said, but it wasn’t with the usual smooth, distant, teacherly tone that he’d always used with Anakin. It sounded like he was talking to a friend. Anakin swallowed down a shudder of pleasure at that fact alone. “At nine, would you like to have accidentally seen an image of what you might look like in the future, bent over and getting fucked? I couldn’t possibly have done that.” 

Obi-Wan’s words made Anakin whine involuntarily. His throbbing cock sharply reminded him of how good it felt to be on his knees, how good it felt to not have to make choices—he was so painfully hard, he felt a desperate need to palm himself, needed to touch himself, incredulous at how good it sounded to hear Obi-Wan say things like that.

“I…” Anakin tried again. “I wouldn’t mind now.”

Obi-Wan laughed at him again, genuinely, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Of course not.” He shook his head, the smile fading, his voice chilling. “Keep your hands off yourself. I can feel what you want, and you are not to touch yourself. You don’t deserve it.” Anakin swallowed hard and nodded, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Obi-Wan looked away from him and resumed pacing. “I am concerned about the strength of the bond even with me shielding at my full capacity, Anakin. I am honestly unsure of what would happen if we opened it the whole way. Although…” He ran a hand over his beard, looking speculative as he reached out with his mind, feeling Anakin’s for darkness again.

Anakin moaned, eyes sliding shut. It felt so good, Obi-Wan’s mental touch was what he was always missing, he felt empty and unbalanced without it. Even this tendril was amazing. _“Please open the bond, Master… I would do anything, just once…”_

Obi-Wan hummed deliberatively. “It might alleviate the tainted nature of your Force signature.” He came back over to Anakin, studying him closely.

“Please, Master. Obi-Wan, please.” Anakin looked up at him as seriously as he could, _“Let me in.”_

“This is unwise,” Obi-Wan said, moving closer. Suddenly Anakin took what felt like the first breath of air in his life. It felt like he was sinking into hot water—he shivered, the hairs raising on his arms, eyes fluttering shut. Having the bond open, the vacant field between them was flooded with a thick level of mutual awareness. Anakin felt a wave of fear and awe track through Obi-Wan. He heard Obi-Wan’s private thought, “ _I didn’t expect it to be this dramatic._ ”

Anakin’s eyes had unfocused, his mouth dropped open. He had never felt more stable in his entire life, had never felt more calm, never felt this warm, never this safe. He sunk forward into the feeling, and Obi-Wan’s mind was open to him, catching him for the first time. Anakin eagerly wrapped himself with Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan huffed out a breath. “Hello, Anakin.” He smiled. “Feel good?”

“Yes!” Anakin beamed his widest smile. His eyes opened and caught Obi-Wan’s fond look. “It does!”

“Let me check your signature again,” Obi-Wan said. The connected feeling abruptly receded. Anakin winced. It was worse to be without it, but still—it had been worth it. He felt Obi-Wan’s pokes and smiled. “Better, not perfect but it is better. I think Master Windu will keep his lightsaber on his belt.”

_“Thank you, Master,”_ Anakin projected. Obi-Wan nodded absently, still looking at him. 

“Do you think I should touch you now?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin exhaled sharply, relieved at even getting the question. “Yes, Master. Please.” 

Obi-Wan still didn’t move. “That’s the interesting thing, Anakin, about asking me to treat you how I want to”—Anakin felt a swell of dread—“is that today, of all days, I am not feeling particularly affectionate. Do you have a guess why?”

“Yes, I do,” Anakin said, ashamed. He muttered, “I have a couple guesses.” 

“Good. I want you to think about those reasons. You can move now.” Obi-Wan grabbed his data pad and sat on the sofa. “Do not touch yourself, either, Anakin. I will know.”

Anakin swallowed. 

_Kriff._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if all the chapters in the future will be this long / this quick but man QUARANTINE how it be for y'all I'm dying :)
> 
> I've always wondered why Dooku told Obi-Wan those things in AotC and why Obi-Wan just ignored it. Never made sense!


	3. Respond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and the unbelievable comments, my god, all I hope is to live up to you guys. <3

Obi-Wan woke up with a headache. 

He didn’t recite the Code before he got out of bed. He didn’t give his dreams—an actually _rather pleasant_ experience of taking a lightsaber to Dooku—to the Force.  He didn’t pretend that everything was fine.  Obi-Wan knew things were not even a little bit fine. 

He felt unsettled at the degree to which he had _lost his cool_. He had overreacted. Well, probably not. It’s hard to over-react to mass murder and gross misconduct. He’d under-reacted in very important ways. 

_Force damn Anakin to the lowest level of all the Sith hells. How had this happened so fast? Army of clones, Sith-appeasing Council,_ disloyal _Padawan swimming in darkness—_

He’d reacted irrationally. He’d reacted emotionally.  He’d told one of his biggest secrets, because he’d been angry and afraid. It was something that couldn’t be unsaid, and saying it had certainly been _unwise_. 

He’d used a mind trick on his own Padawan, _twice_ , because he’d been _possessive_. That was something that couldn’t be undone, and doing it was more than unwise. 

It was _dark_.  He had reached for the Force out of emotion. His crèche-master would be horrified. _Jedi do not have attachments. Jedi do not have possessions._

Obi-Wan looked at his reflection in the ‘fresher mirror. His eyes were still blue. It was only a matter of time, he knew now. He had chosen his path. 

Anakin’s fall had been so clear, last night. It was in the moment when he recognized that he had truly, completely failed at making Anakin a Jedi—Obi-Wan had seen its inevitability, in a sudden rush that felt like the unifying Force whispering in his ear. Anakin would fall, and the galaxy would burn. Like an overgrown forest, the Force had whispered, the galaxy needed to burn, it was healthy, it was time. _Who will wield the flame?_

Obi-Wan had realized it _must_ be him, not any other. Anakin had _chosen him_.

That had also been the exact moment when Obi-Wan decided that the _golden eyes_ future was not just an acceptable future, it was actually _the only tolerable future_ —a life without Anakin was not acceptable, the idea of his Anakin pledging to fuck a _politician_ for _life_ or kneeling to an unknown Sith Master was physically painful to consider.

Anakin was _his_ responsibility. Anakin gave himself to _him._

Anakin had been on his knees before Obi-Wan, eyes begging for approval, face flushed red with shame and desperation, cock painfully hard. It looked right, it felt right. 

The Force had put them together, and Anakin wasn’t allowed to just wander away. 

If it really took fucking him to keep him, Obi-Wan would. He would _gladly_ fuck the disobedience out of him. He would _gladly_ shove his cock in his insolent mouth. He would _gladly_ gag him, tie him up, deny him... Anything to keep him a Jedi, as long as possible. 

The irony was amusing.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at his reflection in the mirror. Perhaps the dreams had never been _warnings_ from the Force at all. 

Maybe they’d been _promises._

—

The Council chamber was very low on the list of places that Anakin would like to be at that particular moment. He’d managed to avoid debriefing the previous day upon his initial arrival from Naboo, probably thanks to some kind of interference run by Obi-Wan. Anakin didn’t know. 

Anakin just knew he woke up to a summons from the Council, and a profound sense of dread. He kept sneaking glances at Obi-Wan’s stern face as they left, listening to Obi-Wan's crisp voice as he intently and specifically talked Anakin through what to expect, testing his Force signature and pulling out more of his darkness.

Master Yoda broke the uncomfortable silence. “Well, would you say, your mission went, Padawan Skywalker?” 

“Uh... Yes, Master Yoda.” Anakin swallowed. “Senator Amidala is uninjured, and able to return to the Senate.” Anakin didn’t know what else to say. Obi-Wan shifted. Anakin tried again. “There were no security incidents on Naboo, now that Gunray is busy with the war maybe he’s paying attention to that instead?”

Silence began, again. Anakin hated the Council so much. He crushed the feeling up and pressed it down. Everything could take so much less time if they didn’t pause to feel his Force signature after every question to test for lies. They didn’t do that to anyone else. 

Looking out the Council windows, Coruscant was gleaming in the morning light. It was a sea of metal and glass, a twisting and artificial mess stretching to the horizon. Anakin thought it looked better at night, when the lights seemed to go on forever. Only _Coruscant_ would look better in the dark.

Anakin refocused on Yoda’s twitching ears. It was strange, this debriefing. Instead of standing slightly behind and to the side of his Master, he was standing in front. Obi-Wan was a reassuring presence over his shoulder. 

Anakin self-consciously fixed his posture again as the pause extended. He had been right about Yoda and Windu giving him extra scrutiny. He felt them examining him closely in the Force.

“That is possible, Skywalker.” Windu’s voice was as unfriendly as usual. Anakin turned to face him. “Why were you on Tatooine?”

Anakin repeated the answer coached to him by Obi-Wan word-by-word: “Senator Amidala received a distress call. She had contacts from her involvement with humanitarian concerns. She decided to respond. I attempted to dissuade her but was unsuccessful. I accompanied her as a security escort.” All of these things were true, from a certain point of view.

“Headstrong, she is.” Yoda chimed in. “Stubborn, and impulsive.”

Anakin looked cautiously at him. “I was not able to dissuade her from flying to Geonosis as well, in her attempt to rescue Master Obi-Wan.”

“I never thought I would suggest assertiveness training, Obi-Wan.” Master Windu was talking over his shoulder, his voice skeptical. Anakin ground his teeth. “I see you have him following orders, now.” 

“Certainly not mine, Mace.” Obi-Wan’s voice was warm and resigned. Anakin could feel something coiling underneath in the bond. “We’re working on that.” 

Anakin flushed.

“How are you adjusting to your arm? Are you troubled by pain?” Master Plo Koon’s voice was kind. Anakin turned to him in relief. 

“I had very good care on Naboo, and my rehabilitation work is going well. I am almost at a stage where my lightsaber work is unaffected.”

“He needs more time to heal, though.” Obi-Wan added on quickly. Anakin could feel him getting a disapproving nudge through the bond. “Several more weeks here at the Temple at least.”

“You want to delay your deployment until he’s ready?” Windu’s voice was dubious. “He can do rehab on the ship.”

“That is my preference, yes.” Obi-Wan sounded very respectful. “I also would personally appreciate the time to prepare to enter the war.”

“Time, we may not have.” Yoda’s voice was admonitory. “First steps, taken they have been. Begun, the war has.” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait for us it will not!”

Obi-Wan spoke politely, bowing his head several degrees, “That is very true, Master Yoda.” Anakin suddenly could hear Obi-Wan’s thoughts— _“You’ve waited ten Force-damned years to lift a finger, now I can’t have a couple weeks to prepare for your bloody farce of a war?”_

“There are always the battalions who fought during the battle of Geonosis.” Ki-Adi-Mundi’s voice was mild. “Those clones are scheduled to have up to three weeks to regroup and repair their equipment. Key officers need to be replaced, which will take time.”

“That would work.” Windu sounded appeased. “We will inform you when you are matched with a battalion.”

“That is acceptable to me,” Obi-Wan said in a grateful tone, bowing again slightly. Anakin closed his eyes and felt Obi-Wan’s discontent boiling beneath his shields. Obi-Wan’s voice was placid, “I would prefer to work with soldiers who have already experienced combat.” 

Anakin shivered when the thought echoed through his mind, _“How many are already dead? How many need to be ‘replaced’? How can Mundi possibly say it like that, like it’s replacing spare parts?”_

They bowed again when they were dismissed, and Anakin swam in his Master’s hidden resentment and frustration. It felt good, it felt like Obi-Wan, the real Obi-Wan. _Anakin’s_ Obi-Wan. Anakin wanted more of it, directed at him.

“That went rather well, all things considered.” Obi-Wan’s voice was level as they walked down the hallway, his posture relaxed, his face mild. “I appreciate them giving you time to heal.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin tried to match his casual tone. “They seemed more concerned with the future than the past.”

“Indeed, Padawan.” Obi-Wan shot him a look. “They did not press the issues. It was curious.”

Anakin swallowed and asked, “Do you think they’ve dropped it?”

Obi-Wan sighed as they entered the lift. “No, Anakin.” He shook his head and waited before the door slid shut before continuing. “Almost certainly not. They are placing you under scrutiny, I could tell that much from skimming their feelings.”

Anakin’s stomach dropped. He knew that was coming. “How are you able to read them back? I always just feel their touch.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I’ve always had an unusual capacity for the mental arts. You have your own capacities. I would prefer you to focus on your abilities, not your deficiencies, Anakin.”

Anakin nodded dutifully. “Yes, Master.” He fixed his posture. “I will focus on my abilities.”

Obi-Wan’s voice came out like a caress. “Very good, _Padawan_.” Anakin shivered and pushed into Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force. Obi-Wan let him in, and gave him the equivalent of a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “ _Very good._ ”

—

“But do you think it’s really alright?” Anakin was laying haphazardly on a chair in their rooms in the Temple, his thumb skimming a long report on his data pad. 

Obi-Wan had several data pads and a holomap open at the table. Over the past several days, they had received their first briefings about their new roles as General and Commander in the Grand Army of the Republic. Obi-Wan was looking over their new responsibilities, their new obligations. Obi-Wan was _working_. 

“… Master? Is it _right_?”

“No, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said without looking up. “Of course it’s not _right_.” They’d discussed this plenty—Anakin was asking questions to which he already knew the answer. This game was not Obi-Wan’s favorite pastime. Obi-Wan reiterated slowly and kindly, as if to a remedial student: “We absolutely should not be using clones to fight a war. It is _wrong_. Very good, Padawan.”

Anakin’s signature in the Force became muddied with arousal. _Good_. Obi-Wan had been enjoying allowing himself to _notice_ when Anakin reacted like this. He then enjoyed ignoring him.

“It does seem wrong to me.” Anakin sighed. “I’m glad you think so too, Master.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and switched data pads. Several quiet moments let him begin to concentrate again on the command structure.

“Should we even be doing this, though?” Anakin’s voice again. Obi-Wan clenched his jaw and looked over again. Anakin wanted his attention, he would get it. Then maybe Obi-Wan could finally get some work done. 

“We must, Anakin.” His voice was emphatic. Anakin looked at him with wide eyes. “We are not being given a choice. We are either Jedi Generals, or we leave, handing over the Order to the Sith and allowing the warmongers in the Senate to use the Jedi to throw the galaxy into chaos _without our intervention_.” He tossed his data pad on the table, running a hand over his beard. “We would be bystanders, Padawan. We cannot be bystanders. We need resources to find and destroy the Sith, running a war will have utility for that purpose. Besides, I need to find and _talk_ to Dooku, and he has an army and a navy in front of him.”

“That all makes sense.” Anakin said, sounding overwhelmed. His voice lost confidence. “Only I don’t know anything about _running a war,_ Master. It’s too _big_. I’m basically a pilot who can use a sword.”

Obi-Wan examined Anakin’s perplexed face and laughed quietly. “You are one or two more things than that, Anakin.” He sighed. “I’ll admit I don’t know either, Padawan. Not really. I’ve read theoretical things, historical things. I don’t know how I’ll be able to apply it.” 

Anakin looked amused. “You’ll be fine, Master. I’ve never seen you be bad at _anything_.”

“I am rather _bad_ at teaching a Padawan how to be a Jedi.” Obi-Wan sniped back dryly. Anakin’s Force presence spiked with want and shame. Obi-Wan ignored it, with pleasure. “Will you please get back to work?”

“Yes, Master.” He agreed, and then kept talking. Obi-Wan ground his teeth. “I’m glad we’ll be together at least. You will be able to help me.” 

“I will try, Anakin.” Obi-Wan tapped the table, his eyes lingering on Anakin’s broad shoulders and the way his long legs draped over the arm of the chair, a bare foot dangling and bouncing anxiously. “Until they decide to Knight you, that is.” 

Obi-Wan frowned, momentarily distracted by the memory of the numbers he’d drawn up. “I don’t think we have enough Generals for all the battalions. I imagine they’ll be pushing us all out into the field quickly.”

“I don’t want to leave, Master.” Anakin was worried, his pretense of reading fully abandoned. “Will they do that soon?”

“It will probably be soon, yes.” Obi-Wan ran his eyes slowly down the length of Anakin’s sprawled body, the strength and vitality of his form. “You appear ready to transition into Knighthood.” His eyes narrowed. “I, alone, know how unready you truly are.“

Anakin swallowed. “Yes, Master.”

Obi-Wan was becoming very fond of the ‘Yes, Master,’ ’Sorry, Master,’ routine that he had been getting from Anakin. In so many parts of his life at the moment he had no idea to proceed, and yet here Anakin was—trusting _him and him alone_ to give him instruction. 

Obi-Wan took a moment to look at Anakin’s eager expression.

It felt strange, having only one thing under his control, and having that one thing be the most powerful Force user in the Order. His eyes fixed back on Anakin’s metal hand, lingering on the familiar shape. It made him feel almost hot, unsteady. His dreams could be about _now_. They could be about _right_ _now_. 

He could take Anakin any time he wanted to, however he wanted to. Obi-Wan knew this, and yet had not done anything. It had been almost better, somehow, to watch Anakin squirm and huff in frustration. To know he needed it, and it was something Obi-Wan could deny, that felt very good. Obi-Wan had a strong suspicion, though, that _giving in_ would feel even better than that. 

Perhaps it was time to give Anakin a taste of what he needed, so he wouldn’t go somewhere else looking for it. He’d managed to keep Anakin away from a surprise tea invitation with the worst of all the Force-damned _politicians_ yesterday, but Anakin had very badly wanted to go. That was a problem.

Anakin was apparently still just walking around asking to be taken by anyone who wanted. Offering himself to _politicians_ left and right. That was not acceptable. Anakin was not available to be taken by _politicians_. If  he was wandering around doing that, dangling himself out there, slaughtering villages on the side, the Sith would find him, take him for their own. The Sith were very probably watching the Chancellor’s office closely. 

Anakin pouted a little bit at Obi-Wan’s inaction, and reached back for his data pad. Obi-Wan could sense that Anakin still wanted to talk to the Chancellor very badly.

Obi-Wan frowned, a spike of irritation flaring. Anakin’s eyes flicked back up to him, _asking_.

If Anakin _needed_ his Master so very, very badly, _fine_. 

Anakin was still looking at him, his Force presence a puddle of need.

_Fine._

“Stand up, Padawan.” Anakin immediately followed orders. Obi-Wan smiled darkly as he felt a jolt of arousal at the unthinking obedience. _Was this really the solution to the incessant backchat all along? Shoving my cock in his mouth?_ “Come closer.”

Anakin approached, eyes growing hopeful. “Yes, Master?” Obi-Wan appreciated how he looked freshly-showered, undershirt clinging slightly to a damp chest, skin slightly flushed, muscles relaxed. They had been left alone, having a quiet morning together in their rooms at the Temple, able to just _be_ —sharing each other’s space, murmuring about the contents of their coms, drinking tea and caf, hearing each other breathe. 

“Stop.” Anakin stood still, a few paces away, vibrating with energy. Obi-Wan looked him over slowly, and watched as Anakin’s cheeks grew pinker and pinker. Obi-Wan smiled. Anakin was all edges and hard angles—lean frame, sharp cheekbones, strong jawline—except for his mouth. His lips were almost feminine, plush and pink. He pouted easily, and bit them frequently when he focused. Obi-Wan found his lips extremely distracting.

_Fine._

Obi-Wan slid his chair back from the table and turned it towards Anakin. He gestured to the ground in front of him, “Come here.” Anakin stepped closer, visibly swallowing. Obi-Wan could see the hard outline of his cock through his soft lounge pants. He smirked slightly. “Kneel.” Anakin dropped to his knees. Obi-Wan spread his legs slightly and slid forward on his chair, voice teasing. “Have you been good, Padawan?”

Anakin’s eyes lit up even brighter. He looked so eager. “Yes!” Anakin’s voice was pleading. “I’m sure you felt in the Force that I didn’t, Master, I didn’t touch myself.”

“I know you didn’t, Padawan.” Obi-Wan ran a hand over Anakin’s hair and Anakin beamed at the contact. His misery at keeping his hands off himself had almost been a fog in the Force. Obi-Wan continued, petting him again. “I have been keeping an eye on you.” His words were somewhere between a threat and a promise.

Anakin blushed even more crimson. “Thank you, Master.” He settled slightly to get more comfortable between Obi-Wan’s knees, hands coming up to rest on Obi-Wan’s thighs.

Obi-Wan smiled more softly, appreciating Anakin’s nearness and the release of scent of his freshly washed hair when he ran his fingers through it. It was still slightly damp. His Padawan braid was freshly braided, perfectly neat. “You’ve done well, Anakin.” Anakin breathed shakily, his eyes searching Obi-Wan’s.

“Really?” His voice was small. “I’ve been trying to read everything I’ve been assigned by the Republic Military and do what I’m supposed to do and be on time for things. I’ve tried—”

Obi-Wan cut him off by grabbing his Padawan braid. “You have behaved for several days, yes, Padawan.” His voice was teasing, and Anakin smiled. Obi-Wan then pulled harder on the braid and said, much less teasing: “It’s all you can do, now.”

Anakin looked down. “I know, Master.”

“Do you?” Obi-Wan tugged on the braid. “Do you understand?”

“I’m trying to, Master.” Anakin’s eyes were wide. He pushed the last part through the bond. _“I need your help.”_

Obi-Wan hummed negatively. “No… I think you need to be _helpful_ , instead. I will let you help me, Padawan.” Anakin’s presence in the Force lit up with relief, and Obi-Wan opened their bond, causing Anakin to whimper, his arousal causing Obi-Wan’s cock to throb. “Take me out of my pants.” The words came roughly out of Obi-Wan’s mouth, echoing into the real world the shared intention in the Force. 

Anakin sighed in relief and hastened to obey, reaching forward and gently grasping the top of Obi-Wan’s pants, his fingers sliding down Obi-Wan’s skin for the first time with _intent_. Metal and flesh—just like his dreams. Obi-Wan swallowed. Anakin tentatively pulled the soft pants down, his eyes looked cautious and incredulous. 

Obi-Wan stroked his face with his thumb, encouraging. Anakin breathed in deeply and reached his hand inside, gently grasping Obi-Wan’s cock and pulling him out, his shaky breath releasing against the sensitive skin. Anakin’s eyes widened as he took in the length and width of Obi-Wan’s hard cock, and he began to lean forward, his mouth automatically seeking contact.

Obi-Wan wrapped his hand in Anakin’s braid and gripped harder, pulling back, holding Anakin’s head in place, reminding him to wait for permission. Anakin blinked up at him and nodded at the warning in the bond, instead using his left hand to stroke down the length of Obi-Wan’s cock, grasping it gently, his fingers gently pressing, reaching the head and pausing, his eyes flicking up to Obi-Wan for instruction.

“Very good, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin’s hand squeezed lightly in response, his pleasure washing over Obi-Wan through the bond. Anakin apparently loved it when Obi-Wan praised him, loved it when Obi-Wan lectured him, loved it when Obi-Wan even just said his name or called him _his Padawan_. He apparently wanted anything, everything from Obi-Wan, he would take anything, take everything. 

_“You’ve dreamed of this?”_ Anakin shared the thought cautiously as if he was testing to make sure he’d understood Obi-Wan’s confession. Obi-Wan nodded reluctantly, fury at himself spiking for his inability to keep his mouth shut. Anakin’s thoughts were tinted with disbelief and insecurity: “ _You’ve had this, but I’ve never done this before…”_

Obi-Wan nodded down at him again, understanding him, stroking his skin. “I’ll guide you, Anakin.” He used his hold on Anakin’s hair to bring him closer. Anakin’s pupils were blown, he licked his lips. 

“Thank you, Master,” he said, the breath of his whisper on Obi-Wan’s sensitive skin.

Obi-Wan held Anakin’s head, lining up his mouth in front of his cock. His words came to him from a dream, came out through his mouth, without him thinking about it at all—“Suck spit into your mouth, Padawan.” Anakin closed his mouth, sucking in his cheeks, eyes wide. “Show me.” 

Anakin opened his mouth, relaxing his jaw, looking up for approval. He stuck his tongue out slightly, waiting. Obi-Wan could see the wet shine of his saliva. “Very good.” He brushed Anakin’s bottom lip lightly with the tip of his cock. Obi-Wan couldn’t believe this was real, that he was finally about to give it to him. “Are you certain you want this?” 

Anakin nodded as best he could with his head in Obi-Wan’s grip, mouth still open, eyes begging, approval radiating in the Force. Obi-Wan pulled Anakin’s face forward, letting his cock slide along the tongue, pushing the head inside, projecting to Anakin how to hold his lips over his teeth. Anakin’s hand slid back down the length as he sucked on the head. 

Obi-Wan’s fingers tightened, holding Anakin in place. Anakin was still looking up, his blue eyes wide and vulnerable, _he looked so good with a cock in his mouth_. Anakin’s eyes fluttered shut, and Obi-Wan realized he had projected the thought across the bond. He smiled slightly and pushed his cock further into Anakin’s mouth, sliding in until Anakin’s lips touched his hand, and Obi-Wan’s cock brushed the back of Anakin’s throat. 

Anakin made a muffled, incredulous choking sound and took it as best he could, learning how it felt to have his mouth stuffed full for the first time. Obi-Wan groaned as he appreciated the sight of his Padawan’s face filled with his cock. 

He let go of Anakin’s hair, letting him move up and slide back down experimentally. “Yes, good, Anakin, just like that.” His voice was low and encouraging as Anakin began to move his head up and down faster, lips sliding and catching on the head, his tongue pressing and licking. He had always been a fast learner. 

Anakin’s metal hand moved to gently cradle Obi-Wan’s balls, and at the feel of the cool metal Obi-Wan’s eyes rolled back and he murmured, “So much better than I even imagined, I knew it would, I knew you would be so good, very good, just like that, _Padawan_ , yes—” Anakin hummed in acknowledgement around his cock and Obi-Wan’s control broke slightly, fucking forward, down his throat. Anakin took it, gagging slightly, and seemed to smile with pride around his cock. 

Obi-Wan incredulously petted his hair. His heart was racing, his breathing shaky. “Very good, yes, very good, Padawan. I’m very close.” Anakin sent a wave of joy at almost accomplishing his task, the only goal in the world that seemed to matter to him at that moment—the only thing he had to worry about—was making Obi-Wan come. Nothing else mattered. 

Anakin began to speed up, focusing his mouth on the head, making sloppy sounds when his mouth would pop off the end of Obi-Wan’s cock so he could gasp a breath, his hand stroking the length quickly. Obi-Wan was _so close, so close._

Obi-Wan felt almost high—he was doing the unforgivable thing, the forbidden thing, and it felt like the Force was singing, the bond was a living thing, coiling around them, urging them on, _get closer, get closer_. 

Obi-Wan gave in, grabbed Anakin’s head again, thrusting deep, holding him still so he could rub the head of his cock against the back of his throat, fucking in further, feeling him gag. Incredulous at the wave of desire and gratitude radiating from Anakin for choking him with his cock, Obi-Wan laughed. 

Anakin’s intense pleasure radiating in the Force felt like an absolution for all the rougher dreams that he had never forgiven himself for before. Anakin wanted this, needed this. Obi-Wan unconsciously projected: “ _I’m going to get to do this again, as many times as I want, however I want—”_

_“Yes, please, Master, whenever, please, use me, I love it, yes—”_

Obi-Wan thrust forward, fucking Anakin’s face hard one last time and came, moaning as Anakin’s voice lingering in his mind— _use me,_ _I_ _love it, yes_. His orgasm washed over him, his come spilling down Anakin’s throat. Anakin tasted it and nearly overwhelmed Obi-Wan through the bond with his feelings of being proud, special, useful, important, _good._

Obi-Wan felt his orgasm stretch out, impossibly long, impossibly good, until he finally crested, the last spill of his come draining him completely. All the tension in his body slid away, and stroked Anakin’s head as he slipped his oversensitive cock back out of his mouth. 

He watched rapt as Anakin licked his lips, wiped them lazily with the back of his hand. Obi-Wan’s breath was shaky, the entire world was muted except for their eye contact. 

The bond was thick with shared attention, almost a haze of pleasure and connection. It saturated his consciousness, this feeling of being one— _his come was inside Anakin_ —the Force seemed to be trembling with Anakin’s intense, disbelieving joy as Obi-Wan became part of him, mixing their essential personhood in the Force. The living Force inside Anakin was incandescent, mesmerizing, intoxicating—Obi-Wan was wrapped in it, encompassed by it.

Obi-Wan absently wondered if his come had midi-chlorians in it, and he imagined asking Yoda about it. _Hello, Master Yoda, I have been coming inside my Padawan and it looks like it glows in the Force, do advise._ The mental image of Yoda’s eyes widening in horror made him laugh, breaking the connection. He shook his head, his vision of the Force completely fading, just back to Anakin’s handsome, flushed face. 

Obi-Wan felt calm, the pleasure of his own orgasm loosening in his limbs, making him feel heavy and sated. His eyes explored Anakin, who was still looking up at him with a dreamy expression on his face at the taste of his Master’s come, fingers tracing his swollen lips, his need blooming in the Force.

“You may touch yourself.” Obi-Wan said graciously in response, a small smile on his face.

Anakin groaned, “Thank you, Master, thank you so much.” His hand immediately jumped to his pants, whining and palming himself roughly. “I needed to, it almost hurt, I wanted to so badly.” His hand had slipped beneath his pants, pulling himself out, stroking quickly. _“Oh, Force, Master, thank you.”_

Obi-Wan tucked himself away and ran a hand through his own hair to neaten away dishevelment. He leaned back in his chair, watching Anakin stroke himself, still between his knees. Anakin’s face slackened as he reached his climax quickly, moaning as he came, eyes sliding shut. Obi-Wan smiled slowly. 

The bond thickened even more—he closed his eyes and lost himself inside the Force. Anakin felt quiet, for once—he felt _settled_. Obi-Wan explored the new sense of peace saturating Anakin’s Force signature. He’d never seen it before, like this. “How do you feel, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, checking in. “Was that alright with you?”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said, slumping from his knees to sit back on the floor. “That was…” His voice trailed off. He sent the rest through the bond. _“That was the best thing that has ever happened to me.”_

Obi-Wan nodded. _“It was very good, Padawan.”_ Anakin smiled gently, a wave of pleasure coming off him into the Force. 

_“I’m glad, Master. I’m so glad.”_

Obi-Wan sent a gentle wave of reprimand through the Force. “Now let me work, Anakin.” He turned himself back to his data pads, flipping to a new view on his holomap. 

"Yes, Master." Anakin nodded vacantly from the floor by his feet. "Sorry, Master.”

Obi-Wan smiled.

—

That evening, Obi-Wan was reading in his bedroom, just one last memo before preparing to go to sleep. Suddenly the air pressure in the room seemed to change, go still, become more silent than the silence that preceded it. His blood rushed in his ears, he looked up in alarm. The Force was telling him that Anakin was in his room, unexpectedly and without warning.

He did see Anakin, but what he saw made no sense at all. Anakin appeared to be lying on the floor next to his bed, wearing his coveralls and covered in engine grease and oil. He was holding a spot welder and looked extremely confused.

“When did you get here?” Anakin asked, bewildered. “Why are you sitting on my tool chest?”

Obi-Wan’s face was blank as he tried to process what was happening. “I assure you, I am in my room.”

“No, you’re not.” Anakin shook his head, confused. “The Force is telling me that you are here.”

“I don’t”—Obi-Wan began, and Anakin disappeared from his floor—“understand.” He finished speaking to an empty room. 

_What in the Force had that been?_

—

It happened again, three days later. Anakin was in a class on lightsaber technique and Obi-Wan was reading in the archives. It was incredibly surreal, disorienting, and difficult to ignore. 

It just _kept happening_ after that. A series of close calls rapidly taught them that it was imperative not to touch in order to keep the secret. Touching somehow made their impossible transit visible to onlookers.

Obi-Wan only had to mind trick a few Jedi to get them to forget they saw Anakin appear in the hallway when Obi-Wan absentmindedly tugged on his Padawan braid. Obi-Wan noticed with trepidation that his mind tricks were becoming easier and more powerful, especially when he was emotional. 

This was concerning, but it did not hold Obi-Wan’s attention—he was distracted by the small fact that for some reason, he was occasionally and inexplicably standing about five feet apart from Anakin, as well as being in completely different parts of the Temple.

They rapidly gained experience with their performances as they practiced communicating mentally while ignoring each other. Obi-Wan excelled at pretending while Anakin struggled, but eventually they both became accustomed to the experience. It was incredible, difficult, slightly terrifying, and _theirs._  


Obi-Wan wondered if the unifying Force were _folding_ the very fabric of space-time between them. The thought worried him—the only place he had read about that phenomenon had been in one of the few theoretical books remaining in the archives about _Sith metaphysics_. 

He suspected the archivists didn't even really know the book was there. It was stored in a collection of books more important for their bindings and paper-making techniques than for the text itself. It was stored as an object, not cataloged for its content.

Obi-Wan had stumbled on it when he was about eighteen, without understanding its origins. He had been ecstatic when he _finally_ discovered that a book had an explanation for his particular kind of Force visions—that of his consciousness sliding along his timeline when unmoored in sleep. 

He just hadn’t understood where all the _energy_ was coming from to power his dreams—it seemed he was accessing exponentially more power than someone with his midi-chlorian count should be able to access.  He had been tempted to ask someone, before he overheard Master Yoda include the temporal displacement of consciousness in a discussion of the most corrupt uses of the dark side, as a violation of the natural laws of the unifying Force. 

Obi-Wan had spent a long time staring at the ceiling that night, trying to process. There was nothing so _dark_ about him that he was unwittingly using the _dark side_ in the crèche. _Right?_

No wonder Master Yoda had tried so hard to place him with Master Qui-Gon.

No wonder Qui-Gon hadn’t wanted him.

_Where is the energy coming from? It should be killing us…_

Obi-Wan was worried.

—

Anakin was worried about Obi-Wan.

This was not an unusual state of being for him, but more of a default. He was always somewhat on alert for his Master, and what he needed. He always had been, he didn’t know why. The Force had sung in ways he didn’t understand when he met Obi-Wan as a child. He knew that Obi-Wan was special, and needed to be looked after. He somehow knew that was his job.

Anakin worried he was failing.

Obi-Wan seemed to have lost something important on Geonosis, and something more important when he’d learned about Tatooine. Anakin kept looking, hoping to find it back in his eyes. He felt guilty. He didn’t know what exactly was missing, but some kind of light had gone out. It had been replaced by steel. 

It was uncomfortably attractive, but still. Anakin was worried.

“I assure you, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sounded exhausted. “I am fine.”

Anakin looked doubtfully at Obi-Wan as they walked down the Temple hallway. Obi-Wan had been walking fast and thinking hard, but by mutual agreement the bond was just open enough for Anakin to lightly feel his tension and discomfort. “I’m just worried, Master.” 

Obi-Wan gave him a look. “I am very aware, Padawan.”

Anakin scowled back, pressing the call for the lift down to the Temple hanger. They were finally getting the opportunity to meet with Obi-Wan’s second-in-command and the other staff officers of the 212th Attack Battalion, as well as get a tour of their Star Destroyer.

The war was almost here, for them. Just a few more minutes of being Jedi. At the bottom of the lift, they would have _rank_. 

In the lift, Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably and murmured. “I may have been to Kamino before, but it was a deeply upsetting experience.” He sighed, his eyes fixed to the display flashing the descending floor number. “I never had the opportunity to meet any of the clones. I only ever saw the men displayed like animals in a zoo, behind transparisteel, performing tasks. Lama Su had called them _my army, my units_. Like they were objects. He said they manipulated their minds to make them compliant.” 

They’d discussed this all before. Anakin knew that it was very unusual for Obi-Wan to be nervous enough to _act_ nervous, and wanted him to stop feeling anxious. When Obi-Wan was unsettled like this, Anakin felt adrift. “I have heard good things from other Padawans. They like the men a lot.” Anakin tried to reassure him.

Obi-Wan sighed again, trepidation lingering in the Force. “I just don’t like how proprietary this all is. I have no desire to meet men who are _mine_. I don’t want to own people.” The end came out bleak.

Anakin swallowed down a swell of emotion and turned as the door opened. “Happy birthday, Master,” he quipped. “The Senate and the Council have a present for you.” They shared a grim look and entered the hanger. 

The first thing that Anakin noticed was all the armor, the inherent strangeness of being unmasked in a room of masked men. The second thing he noticed was the divergence in all of their Force signatures. Each was an individual, strongly defined. It was odd—he seemed very attuned to them, as if he already knew them well. 

When Obi-Wan stumbled next to him, Anakin sent over the bond _“Can you feel them too?”_

_“Yes, Anakin. Very much,”_ Obi-Wan projected. _“I’m having trouble staying out of their minds.”_

Anakin felt the fear coating the words, and swallowed hard. He looked over all the small, occasional distinguishing marks on the armor as they walked closer. They were so strongly individualized in his mind, it was almost as if his eyes snapped to each little symbol and could read its meaning. _“Why, Master? Why is it like this?”_

“I have theories, Padawan, but I don’t like them,” Obi-Wan muttered out loud. 

As they drew nearer to the correct transport, and were met by men snapping to attention. One with a distinguishing visor stepped forward. “General Kenobi, Commander Skywalker. Welcome. We are from the 212th to escort you to the ship, sir.” He turned to Obi-Wan and said, “I am CC-2224, sir, we’ve communicated.” 

“CC—” It sounded like Obi-Wan had begun to respond before he’d cut himself off abruptly. Anakin looked at him sharply. There was an awkward pause while Obi-Wan frowned. Almost everyone had looked over, confusion and wariness flaring in the Force. Anakin tried to listen as the Force hummed, full of all of the men’s emotions and opinions. He heard Obi-Wan uncertainly say, “... Apologies. Your preferred name is Cody?” 

“Y-yes, sir.” Cody’s mind was blank with confusion and pleasure. “That’s… that’s right.”

“Wonderful.” Obi-Wan said, suddenly smiling warmly at Cody. Anakin blinked at the expression, hope blooming in his chest. “Would you prefer that I call you Cody, Cody?”

“Yes, sir” was said with a confused smile, a sense of relief and a hint of glee in his Force signature. Anakin could feel the bemused thought spreading through the room, _Jetiise_. 

Obi-Wan turned to face the rest of the men next to the transport and spoke with conviction, his natural authority coloring his tone. “Please tell me your name. I will not be calling you by your official designations.” He said, and then hastily tacking on “…Unless of course that is your preferred nomenclature in which case let me know at once.” Anakin smiled at Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan smiled at the men apologetically. Obi-Wan’s eyes caught his and raised an eyebrow at him. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Anakin gladly joined in saying when he saw something, in Obi-Wan’s eyes. A new kind of light, a darker, fiercer light.

Obi-Wan’s voice flooded into his head suddenly. _“We have to keep these men alive, Padawan. No matter what. That’s what matters now.”_ The voice took on a self-deprecating tone. _“They are ours, after all_. _”_ They exchanged a look, and Obi-Wan’s tone became serious, almost dangerous again: _“We belong to them. Not the other way around. We must get them through this war alive.”_

Anakin swallowed and nodded. They followed the men onto the transport and held on as they left the Temple, Anakin’s eyes flicking between each of the men, testing their Force presences, and projecting to Obi-Wan, _“How am I supposed to feel them die, if I can feel them this much alive?”_

He had always felt deaths much more clearly than other Jedi—the level of his connection to the living Force was unprecedented and unmatched. It meant an unusual sensitivity to the moments of transition, the moments of change, the moments of death. He already felt these men so clearly. 

_“It will be a nightmare.”_ Obi-Wan’s voice was not particularly reassuring, for once. His voice in Anakin’s head sounded angry at himself, angry at the Force, angry at the Council, the Senate, the Sith. _“I’m sorry.”_

Anakin nodded again, and smiled politely at a clone who introduced himself as Waxer. He tried to project confidence and patience. He tried to project resolve and competence. He was fairly certain he just projected his insecurity, anyway. He was only twenty. He should not be in charge of anything, let alone highly trained special forces. 

Who were half _his_ age. _Kriff_ this was all so wrong. 

Anakin’s eyes flicked back to Obi-Wan, and his reassuring presence in the Force. He agreed with him, completely and totally. 

_This was already a nightmare._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Farewell to Padawan Anakin, I will miss your braid <3
> 
> I think I've got all the pieces on the board where I want them for the Clone Wars!
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


	4. Rapport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and the comments omg! Everyone is amazing. This is a double update because of everyone's encouragement, so be sure to read the next chapter too, which is where the fun really begins if u know wat i mean
> 
> There are references to events and dialogue from the 2003 Clone Wars series, adjusted a bit to fit, so there’s a bit of canon-typical violence in this, feat. Red-Shirt Clones.
> 
> Some stuff is really not canon at all, forgive me! 
> 
> Update: added a small glossary in End Notes so if you see something weird or Mandalorian, I tried to gloss it there :)

MUUNILINEST

Five months after the Battle of Geonosis

The fight should have ended when Obi-Wan thrust his lightsaber through the armored chest. 

That seemed like a reasonable and normal concluding moment, Obi-Wan thought. He hung there for a moment, blade humming, shoved through the heart. Obi-Wan waited for the feeling of his opponent’s death to wash over him, to signal that his job was done, but it wasn’t coming. 

The monstrosity laughed at him. Obi-Wan looked at the helmet’s eyeslits and raised an eyebrow.

All around them, fire crackled over the city lying in ruin—the devastation that Obi-Wan’s invasion had wrought. Obi-Wan smiled that he could hear the heavy artillery continuing to fire, which means that his pincer move had been successful. 

He needed to eliminate the enemy commander on the field, hence the lightsaber through the heart. The moment stretched uncomfortably.

Suddenly Obi-Wan was getting punched. Hard. In the face. Many times. How? He rolled, thrown to the ground, dazed. Lightsaber to the chest was apparently an insufficient finishing move. The lightsaber was _still in his chest_.

Obi-Wan looked up to see slug bullets flying at him, a weapon even more uncivilized than blasters, a whole barrage of them. Obi-Wan frowned and put up a hand, creating a shield in the Force to bounce back the lead slugs. Truly uncivilized. 

The monstrosity noticed the failure of his slugthrower and put up his other arm, shooting out a jet of fire at Obi-Wan. Flamethrower. _Fantastic_. Obi-Wan threw up his other hand, creating another shield in the Force, withstanding the terrific heat that almost touched his palm. The flames were strangely beautiful.

Obi-Wan suddenly had enough of laying on the ground. He squeezed the hand holding out a protecting palm into a fist, and he focused his attention on the enemy’s weapons. He felt them in the Force, and contracted his hand quickly, crushing the metal of the armor from across the courtyard. The flames stopped. 

Obi-Wan recalled his lightsaber from where it was still buried in the chest armor, and used the Force to swing it midair to block an attack from some kind of Force-damned morningstar the creature had produced, before the blade slapped into his palm, ready to be swung again immediately into another block. He flipped to his feet and a strange thought floated through his mind: _I’m good at this._

He moved with Force-assisted quickness, beginning with Ataru to get nearby and end the fight. He sliced with the blade but the creature threw up an arm and the lightsaber bounced back. Obi-Wan growled. The armor on his opponent’s arms was beskar, apparently, and resistant to his blade. 

Obi-Was was growing more and more frustrated. He had a timeline to keep, he didn’t have time to waste playing games with monsters that didn’t have the common decency to die when stabbed in the heart. Obi-Wan quirked a small smile and switched to Djem So, using Anakin’s preferred aggressive form to attack with strong blows, pushing his enemy back, off-centering them. _So much better than slashing through waves of mindless droids…_

Finally, an opening. Obi-Wan slashed his blade and cut off his right arm entirely. As the creature instinctively looked to the damage, Obi-Wan spun to the right and bisected him. Obi-Wan heard the heavy sound of the body hitting the ground in pieces. 

Obi-Wan breathed heavily for a moment, looking at the wreckage of the body of his enemy, thoughtless but feeling a rush of victory. He closed his eyes, feeling out with the Force. He’d missed the feeling of death, which for some reason made him upset. There was no confirmation of his kill, no guarantee that the task was done. 

“General Kenobi, sir, we’re in position.” Cody’s holo had popped up on his wrist, breaking his concentration. 

Obi-Wan blinked and straightened, voice steady. “I’m on my way.” He jumped on his speeder bike and moved on to the rendezvous point, not another thought available to spare for the brutal fight. 

On to the next one. _This was war, now._

—

_Now, this was war!_ Anakin thought, spinning beneath a Cruiser and shooting down droid after droid, lost in the Force as he hunted and fired. He was protecting the entire flank of Gold, Blue, _and_ Red Squadrons by himself, his senses spread wide out through space, deeply embedded in the moment—an impenetrable shield for his men. 

Anakin was proud of his first command as a Knight. The Chancellor had asked for him specifically to lead the battle in space, recognizing his skill as a pilot. He darted through the black, annihilating droid ships with unnatural quickness and skill.

The carnage was oddly beautiful, when he had a moment to notice it. He did not have a moment now. All the glittering explosions and vibrant lasers were just obstacles to avoid, not there to be looked at. He spiraled around, using his connection with the Force to instinctively understand the exact parameters of his ship, sliding by with inches to spare as an enemy ship nearby spun out of control. 

Anakin smiled. _He was good at this_. He’d been unknowingly training for it ever since he was podracing as a very small boy. It was instinctual, it was almost easy, it was almost fun. 

_If only he couldn’t feel the fog of death._

“We lost Gold Leader!” A voice crackled on his coms. “General, enemy reinforcements coming in point three five!”

“Clear out, Gold Two,” Anakin replied. “I’m coming in. Arfour, switch all power to forward shields!” 

Anakin flew recklessly, trying to gain the attention of as many of the droids as possible. He baited them until he was being followed by a massive wave of fighters, his hands gentle on the steering, allowing minute adjustments that moved his ship around the lasers with Force-assisted dexterity. 

He collected as many ships as possible and drew them into a trap. “Red Leader! Fire all your missiles across the bow of Cruiser 8!”

“But General, there’s nothing out there, no targets!”

“Do it now, trooper!”

It worked perfectly. The droid ships were annihilated by a barrage of heavy fire, and Anakin was now being chased by several friendly missiles. While this could normally be considered a bad thing, for Anakin it was just another weapon for him to use. 

He flew with intention, dangerously close to targets, spinning and twirling and diving, enough to confuse the missiles tailing him like ducklings into blowing up enemy ships. It was a reckless dance that should not have worked, but for Anakin it did. 

Anakin smiled as he flew through the docking bay of a droid ship, remembering Naboo and the tremendous explosion he’d caused at age nine. His smile slipped when he remembered Padmé’s face when she’d learned about the Tuskans. He flipped the controls, spinning around and dodged death by a fraction of an inch.

“General, almost all the gun platforms are destroyed and only… Wait, what’s that?” Anakin began to feel death all around him, his eyes searching for the ship that was creating the explosions. “General! We’ve lost all Blue Squadron! A rogue fighter has…”

“I see him!” Anakin’s hands trembled slightly as he felt two more troopers die. That felt like Eagleyes and Windy. He swallowed and focused all of his attention on their murderer. He would make him pay. “Mop up the fighters as planned, Red Leader.” He darted after the fighter. “This one’s mine.”

—

Obi-Wan was frustrated. They were advancing through the city block by block, fighting through the ruined husks of buildings destroyed by bombs. It was ugly, it was slow, it was unbearably _frustrating_. Men were dying around him, mown down by _so many droids_ , it was carnage, it was heinous, it wasn’t ending.

They’d just taken a market square when Obi-Wan heard the roar of an engine much too powerful to be flying this low. He looked up just in time to see a ship buzz past, a fanblade starfighter. His eyes barely tracked it as the noise cracked by. He wondered out loud, “What was that?” 

“I don’t know, General.” Cody answered, giving Obi-Wan a slight start. Cody was standing behind him, attentive as always at his right shoulder. _Good man, that Cody._

Obi-Wan frowned. “That’s not one of ours.” He said, and his senses tingled again, the slight noise of another engine coming down. 

“No, General.”

The other ship shot past at incredible speed, and Obi-Wan’s senses lit up. “That was Anakin!”

“Yes, General.” Cody managed a dry tone through his helmet’s vocoder.

Obi-Wan brought his wrist to his mouth and barked into his com, “Anakin!”

Anakin’s _falsely calm_ voice answered back, “It’s under control, General.”

Obi-Wan was furious. “You’re supposed to be in space leading our forces.”

“It’s under control!” Anakin snapped back. The sound of the starfighters’ engines was enormous, and painful. Obi-Wan’s senses lit up and he narrowly dodged a blaster bolt from a droidika that had arrived while he’d been distracted. He flipped behind a nearby collapsed wall, finding cover, breathing hard. Cody was on his right, firing back. 

“Under control?” Obi-Wan growled. He took a breath, trying to calm down. “I don’t think so. Your place is with your squadrons, Anakin.” The fighters buzzed by again. “Not chasing _one ship_ through the _city streets_!” He was not yelling, but doing the closest approximation to yelling that Obi-Wan permitted to be observed in public. It was a fervent, pressed tone, dripping with anger. 

Anakin sounded distracted. “This is no droid pilot, and the Force is with him! I can’t let him get away.”

The ships shot past again, and then up, higher and higher off into space. Obi-Wan’s head was tipped back, watching them fly away. He felt out with the Force and brought his wrist to his mouth again, voice marginally more calm. “Anakin, I am also sensing something strange, but you must let that ship go! It’s baiting you!” He brought the speaker to his ear and tried to hear with his ringing ears. 

Obi-Wan could hear faintly through the comlink when Arfour emitted a loud series of beeps, and Anakin’s quiet voice said “He’s jumping into hyperspace? Do you have his coordinates? Then plug them in! He’s not losing us.”

Obi-Wan sharply spoke into the com, “Anakin!”

Anakin’s voice now was cocky, almost insolent. “Obi-Wan, the battle up here is more than won. I can handle this!”

Obi-Wan did not appreciate that tone. His voice lost all warmth and grew louder as Anakin’s defiance continued, “Do not follow that ship! Anakin! Do you hear me?! Do not follow that ship! That is an order! Anakin!”

Anakin said in a falsely choppy way, “Sorry General, your signal is breaking up.”

“Padawan, if you—” Anakin cut the com and jumped to hyperspace, the link going silent. Obi-Wan glared at the sky for a moment, then turned his head to Cody. “You have the coordinates?”

“Yes, General.” Cody immediately replied, anticipating the question. 

“Choose a squad to follow him.” Obi-Wan looked darkly back up at the sky when Cody nodded and darted away. He sighed. 

_I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this._

—

YAVIN 4

“Trooper—” Anakin said shakily across the clearing before trying again, “Hey!” He’d returned from his brief scouting into the jungle to find carnage. Bodies strewn everywhere. A man staggered to his feet, standing near their transport. “Trooper, are you alright? What happened?”

He flinched as suddenly the ship exploded into a fiery ball that engulfed the man standing before it, consuming him in the blast. Anakin was pushed back, face turning away from the incredible heat. He staggered for a moment, blinking, trying to clear his eyes. He looked up at his own ship, and saw Arfour beeping frantically. He shouted, “Arfour!” and then his own ship exploded too.

Anakin was flung down, and hit the ground hard. He was shaken and dazed for a long pause before realizing he was laying near a fallen trooper who was still moving. He shook his head hard and darted over, kneeling over him, checking for injuries. There was a massive hole cracked in the stomach of the man’s armor, and Anakin could see the bloody mess underneath. He sat heavily beside him and pulled him onto his lap, breath and hands shaking, ears ringing.

He began to murmur, “No, Grist, don’t die, I can heal you, no…” Anakin shifted the body in his arms, hands pressed on the bloody wound in his stomach. He looked around for the source of the injury, eventually looking up slightly to see that the trooper had been flung somehow up against a tree, a branch gored him, and then he’d fallen about ten feet. Anakin looked away from the bloody broken branch. He whispered, “Hold on for a few more moments, please, Grist…”

Life left the body in his arms, and Anakin felt him die. 

_Why did Obi-Wan send these men after me? Why?_

Anakin squeezed Grist’s body one more time involuntarily, and then laid him down on the ground as gently as he could. Anakin looked around the clearing at the broken bodies of the squad of troopers he’d just stepped away from a moment before. They’d been thrown and snapped, and looked like misshapen dolls scattering the ground. 

He looked down and squeezed his eyes shut. Near his foot, the red dome Arfour’s head lay cracked open—it must have been blown off when the ship exploded. Anakin clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. He reached out to see if any were still alive when—

He felt a shift in the Force and snapped his head around, scanning the visible forest. 

A figure in a black cloak was walking through the flames of the burning ships on the other side of the clearing. Anakin narrowed his eyes. He could feel the death lingering around them, he remembered the name of every member of Blue Squadron who had been annihilated. He would have _justice_ for them. The figure stopped, silhouetted by the fire. Anakin felt a surge of hatred, and said with intent, “I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done.” 

The figure disrobed dramatically, revealing a pale, bald woman with tattoos and a spindly physique. Her voice was husky and low, taunting him: “Come on then, little Knight,” she said, lighting a red lightsaber in each hand. “Your pathetic fall will be my ascension to the Sith.”

Anakin ignited his blade, and charged.

—

MUUNILINEST

Obi-Wan and Cody’s squadron had finally reached the core of the city, and were circled around the main bank and headquarters of the InterGalactic Banking Clan. They needed to apprehend the Chairman, a member of the Separatist Council, San Hill, and get his surrender to end the fighting on the planet. 

There was an impenetrable perimeter to the building, an almost perfect defense woven of droids and shields that it would have taken months of a siege to attack in frontal assault. They had to try something else. Obi-Wan was currently crouched behind a broken wall, waiting for the other team to get in position to attempt a more covert method. It would be minutes more. He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, trying to stay present and agile. 

He looked at the faceplate of Cody’s helmet for a long moment, and asked, “You were trained extensively in military studies, correct?”

“Yes, General.” Cody’s flat tone replied. In the Force, Obi-Wan could feel an overwhelming rush of Cody’s thoughts, _I know this game. The General likes to run his mouth when he’s worried about Skywalker. I wonder what it’ll be this time…._

Obi-Wan bounced again, smiling a little. They’d been shoulder to shoulder for pretty much every waking moment of the last few months of hell. They knew each other far too well already. “Did that include historical studies?”

Cody’s tone was tentative, “Yes, General.” _Here we go…_

Obi-Wan smiled wider. “So you’re familiar with the Remulan Empire?”

“Yes, General.” Cody agreed, and Obi-Wan saw a quick flash in the Force of Cody’s thoughts, flicking back over all the different strategy pods he’d done. Obi-Wan blinked and shook his head. That had been happening more and more frequently with _some_ members of the Third Systems Army, _many_ of the 7th Sky Corps, _most_ of the 212th, and _particularly_ with Cody. The closer they were to him, the more they came into contact with him, the more they were open to his perception in a way that he’d never experienced before. 

It was unsettling. 

Obi-Wan pushed the thought aside, and came back to the present. What could he do? He could get a visual on what’s happening, that would help. He saw Cody intently punching a message into his com. Obi-Wan said to him, a bit wistfully, as he stood up a bit, poking his head up to look over the barricade, “Remulan history has always been a bit of a pet topic of mine.”

“Yes, General.” Cody said, without looking up, pulling Obi-Wan’s robe down sharply, jerking him back out of line of fire. A spray of lasers flew overhead, causing explosive damage on the wall behind them.

Obi-Wan gave him a glare. Code just looked over, faceplate obviously blank, but his Force presence was so loud with exasperation that Obi-Wan couldn’t hold an angry expression. Obi-Wan smiled as he couched down again and said, “Their Republic fell, you know, after it rotted from the inside.” 

Cody looked blankly at him, “Yes, General?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan said, pensive, adjusting his robes. “Outrageous levels of inequality, systematic corruption. Loans with forty, fifty percent interest. Turning whole planets into debtors, which turned entire peoples into slaves.” He looked up at the bank, thinking about all the suffering that came from institutions like this, that held people hostage in debt.

Cody’s tone and presence were unreadable. “Slaves, sir?”

Obi-Wan looked back at Cody and nodded. “Yes, their whole economy was built on slavery. All the Senators owned massive plantations worked by thousands and thousands of slaves.” The entire perimeter was too quiet. Obi-Wan wondered if the other team was nearing position yet. They needed to move, _soon_.

Cody turned to adjust some of his equipment. He spoke towards the opposite wall. “That’s interesting, General.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan looked bemused. “It is to some. Apologies for babbling.” Cody nodded and made a _no-problem_ gesture with his hand. Obi-Wan sighed. “I’ve lost contact with Anakin, you know, and he’s disobeyed orders, again.”

“I know, sir.” Cody looked back, sounded reassuring. “We’re trying to reestablish communication, but the problem is not on our end.” 

Obi-Wan sighed and checked the time. They still had minutes. “Thanks for trying, Cody.” He bounced on his feet again.

Cody said, “No problem, sir.”

They waited.

—

YAVIN 4

The jungle was hot and dark, and Anakin was alone. 

Not alone.

He was being hunted. They’d both darted into the trees as soon as they engaged, looking for advantageous ground, trying to draw their opponent into danger. Anakin had to keep dodging logs and branches as they were flung with the Force at him at high speeds. It was very distracting.

He heard a humming coming from his left, and followed the noise deeper into the jungle. The air was hot and moist, filling his lungs. Tatooine’s air had practically no water content, so Anakin always felt like he was in a steam room on planets like this. Not his preferred fighting environment. 

The red blades swung at him suddenly from above, and he blocked, rejecting the attack with Force-assisted strength, throwing his assailant backwards. She landed gracefully, and attacked again, her blades moving in a kind of jar’kai that Anakin was not familiar with exactly, but could block well enough.

It was finding an opening to attack that was the difficult part. The woman was a formidable opponent, to his disgust. Anakin’s strikes grew harder and more aggressive, scowling at her wide grin and remembering Eagleye’s distinctive laugh. 

He forced one lightsaber from her hand, and then the other. Disarmed, she stood for a moment before him with one eyebrow raised, and as he swung the killing blow, she jumped up, disappearing into the canopy.

Anakin checked his swing and growled. Her lightsaber hilts shot up past him back up to their owner. He’d missed the window of keeping her disarmed by trying to kill her. He ground his teeth, and looked up into the dark branching tangle of the canopy trying to catch sight of her blades. He sighed, and jumped up too. 

Fighting on tree branches was even worse. 

He was being pulled deeper and deeper into the jungle, led on a chase. He couldn’t focus on anything but the hum of the red blades, the small sounds of her light feet on wood, the occasional husky laugh that made him snarl. Blades crashed and separated, crashed and separated. 

Anakin’s branch suddenly gave out beneath him, and he began to fall reaching frantically with the Force for one of the vines clinging to the tree. It came and he caught it, breathing out hard. He swung trying to get to a stable branch when red streaked overhead and his vine was cut and he was falling again. He reached out hard and summoned another one to break his fall. 

He was much lower down than she was now. He had to get back up to her, _he had to get his blade through her neck_. Anakin ran and jumped, climbing hastily and recklessly, grabbing vines and using the Force to make assisted leaps. He was closing in, he heard her cackle. 

The witch would pay.

—

MUUNILINEST

“Did you know that slavery exists on every planet in the Republic?”

“No, sir.” Cody sounded annoyed by the fact a conversation was happening in the middle of a firefight. He thought “ _How can he possibly even know that for sure?_ ”

“Oh, I suppose I don’t.” Obi-Wan said, and frowned. “Every planet I’ve ever visited in the Republic has slaves somewhere. Having Anakin as a Padawan showed me that.”

“Yes, sir?” Cody signaled to the squad, and then laid down suppressing fire. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, deflecting blaster bolts back. His voice was distracted. “Every planet we have a mission together, he would always end up somewhere, disobeying orders, freeing slaves. I think he killed his first slaver when he was fourteen. I didn’t know what to do, Cody. How do you explain to a youngling it’s not alright to kill? He knew that already, but did it anyway.” 

“Self-defense, sir?” The street was quiet and they moved quickly. They had to meet with the second team to ascend the bank from its one vulnerable angle. Cody signaled a complex maneuver to Waxer, who passed it on, the team spread out strategically.

Obi-Wan spun his blade, eyes sharp. “In a loose sense, yes. The responsibility for the killing rests with him, though. Anakin sought out the interaction, and so in that way provoked the attack. The Jedi path we were taught said we were always to leave the situation alone, to not exceed our mandate.” Obi-Wan sighed. Droids began shooting them from a new angle, and two troopers fell. Obi-Wan grimaced as he felt them die, sharing the distinctive experience of Tews and Pepper being ripped from life, their final thoughts of agony and surprise.

Obi-Wan huffed a breath, refocused on the blaster bolts. His mind slid to Anakin again, rambling to Cody. “I think he has an excessively strong ability to sense pockets of suffering, and is called to them in order to resolve and mitigate the situation, and cleansing the cloud of suffering in the Force.” 

Cody paused for a second while his mind tried to process all the words the General had just thrown at him, shook his head and began returning fire. “Cloud of suffering, sir?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said as his lightsaber hummed, reflecting bolt after bolt. “Emotions release disturbances into the Force, did you know that?” Obi-Wan’s tone had become conversational as he fell into rhythm with his blade. 

“No, sir.” Cody signaled to the squadron to watch the gun turrets closely. 

“They do.” Obi-Wan blocked a spray of blaster bolts while Cody’s careful aim eliminated targets. Obi-Wan continued on almost absently, “Places where many people feel strong emotion are tainted with those feelings. It can be good, you know. I guess places can be tinted or tainted.” Obi-Wan smiled to himself for a moment, and then decapitated a droid that was trying to lurk in a nook. “Good places like concert halls or churches can vibrate in harmony with the Force. Places where people gather for good reasons.”

“Yes, sir.” Cody said, distracted. The second team had reached the rendezvous, only missing three men. Obi-Wan nodded at Boil and took the ascension cable extender.

They looked up at the hundred story tall building. Obi-Wan sighed and prepared his equipment, still chatting at Cody who was mostly listening. “Well, Anakin feels the bad places very strongly. As Anakin feels the suffering, he feels the imbalance in the Force. He can instinctually tell what he must do to rebalance it. Help people, relieve pain. Water for the thirsty, shelter for the exposed, food for the hungry. Snapping off of shackles. Direct aid. The concept of systematic change makes his _brain hurt_ apparently. Too abstract.” Obi-Wan looked up one moment before a blaster bolt unexpectedly shot down a nearby trooper, and Obi-Wan spun his blade back, returning the bolts. Droids had found them, they needed to ascend, now. 

Cody signaled for the squad to begin moving up, thinking, _“He says snapping shackles that like it’s a bad thing.”_

Obi-Wan blocked a bolt that was coming straight for Cody’s head with satisfaction. He grumbled, “It’s not that it’s a bad thing. Anakin is just very difficult to manage. He runs off! All the time! He is very stubborn, and believes he is impervious to danger.” Cody looked at him, disbelieving. Obi-Wan continued oblivious, “He is not.”

“No, sir.” Cody said, taking out a droid that was taking aim at his General’s armor-less back. “He is not.”

—

YAVIN 4

Anakin hit the ground hard, the wind knocked completely from his lungs. He lay dazed for a moment before the pain hit, and then the agony of attempting to return air to his lungs, the suffocating collapse of the chest, the crushing pressure on the heart slammed into him. It hurt. He’d fallen on stone, not jungle floor. Somehow he’d been led to a temple that was nearly engulfed by the jungle, rotting slowly.

The whole place felt _dark_.

He got up, body convulsing slightly. His lightsaber had never left his metal hand, and he was glad for it. His grip with his old hand would have released. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he got the blade up in time. _Crash_. The two red blades flashed quickly, and he fell into the Force and let his reflexes take over, trusting his skill and his senses.

The witch flipped up stones and hurled them at him, distracting him from her darting attacks. Anakin parried it all, moving faster and faster and he fell into the frenzied rhythm of the fight. His anger spiked as he was turned back again and again, and put on the defensive over and over, it galled him, he hated it, hated her, hated Obi-Wan for sending those men, hated the Council for sending him here, hated Qui-Gon for finding him at all, hated—

Lightning cracked overhead, and large raindrops began to fall on top of the temple, nowhere else. It began to truly pour down on the both of them, a wind rising, small strikes of lightning cracking. Their blades began to hiss with raindrops striking the vibrating energy. Anakin fought harder, fought faster, robes soaking, face wet. The cackling, taunting laugh drove him on. 

The rain made the mossy temple stones slippery, and Anakin had to watch his balance, and almost was taken out by a sizable chunk of stone flying at his face. He flipped over and landed, unsteady, on a higher ledge, looking for the red blades that crashed down on him almost immediately. 

He pushed her off, and she rolled and disappeared from view, retreating inside the gloom of the temple itself. Anakin swung his lightsaber a few times, anger building at her refusal to stand her ground. 

He descended the dark stair into the temple, ignoring the incomprehensible whisper in his ear, _Μιδιχλῶρ, Ξαίρε Μιδιχλῶρ, Μιδιχλῶρ..._

—

MUUNILINEST

The squadron reached the roof of the bank with only minimal casualties. 

While they prepared the bombs, Obi-Wan looked out over the gleaming, burning city, noting the wealth that could be seen in every soaring building, every delicate spire, every manicured green square.

They hadn’t heard from Anakin or the squad sent as backup. All coms were unanswered. Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably. He began speaking at Cody, who nodded once in acknowledgment and then looked back at the squad.

“I had a mission for the Senate where we had to enforce the terms of an IGBC settlement once,” Obi-Wan said blandly. “They had us eliminate a violent democratic uprising against the austerity conditions that were causing immense amounts of suffering and death.” Obi-Wan swallowed. “Inarguably, we were on the wrong side of that conflict. Every time I see the IGBC logo now, it reminds me of then. The refugee camps.” 

Cody thought, _“Why did you do it, then?”_

Obi-Wan looked down, disgusted at himself, the Senate, the situation, everything. He grimaced and said, “Every time the Senate asked us to do something immoral, I would always just follow orders.” Obi-Wan paused. “I still follow orders, of course.” He clarified, hastily, giving Cody a look. Cody made the _no-problem_ gesture again. 

Obi-Wan sighed, and looked back at the city. The explosives were almost ready, they were almost ready to breach the roof. “On the way to the mission, I would always read about the Remulans to feel better. _T_ _heir_ Senate lost almost all executive power when it was turned into an Empire.”

Obi-Wan said the last part much quieter, voice lowering even more into a reflective murmur that Cody half heard over the small noise of the squad getting ready. “Under the Empire, there was a long period called the Peace of Solon that was one of the most peaceful and productive eras in all of civilized history. Solon proved that Empire didn’t have to mean the end of democracy on the local level, could actually increase it by system stabilization.”

“Yes, sir.” Cody said, looking over the breaching preparation. _“Why is this relevant_ now _, sir?”_

“It’s not, particularly.” Obi-Wan said, distracted. “I’m just thinking about it. About the Solonids. How they ended their century of civil war.”

Cody gave the _final-check_ signal to Waxer and looked back at Obi-Wan. “How?” 

Obi-Wan ducked behind cover, Cody followed. “They let all the ambitious powers in their society fight it out, let them exhaust each other.”

“Then they took over, sir?” The roof exploded, and the first wave of soldiers defended on ropes, firing their blasters. The noise was tremendous. 

_“Then they took over.”_ Obi-Wan unintentionally spoke directly into Cody’s mind as he ignited his lightsaber. _“Yes.”_

They breached the bank and stormed the top floor, systematically taking possession of the building. Obi-Wan led the charge, leaping in front of the men to protect them from blasters and destroying droids before they could even take a shot. He felt a savage desperation to _finish this_ and to end the threat, to _stop feeling death_.

The plan worked perfectly, as Obi-Wan knew it would. The clones were the finest army in history, all of Cody’s men in this elite squad were engineered to perfection, lethal and brilliant. Obi-Wan often was in awe of their quiet competence, their breadth of knowledge. He hoped that the other Jedi at least _recognized_ that they shouldn’t be in command at all. Men like Cody were the ones who should be leading a war, any and all of them were more trained for military strategy than any Jedi.

Obi-Wan finally held his lightsaber to San Hill’s throat and felt a rush of pride. They had done the impossible in breeching the stronghold, capturing the Chairman. He looked around at his men taking control of the room. No other unit could have done it, these were the best of the best. They’d been a perfect storm of violence.

San Hill shook and cried. “I’m a banker, I’m just a banker—”

Obi-Wan snapped, “That depends on you and your _unconditional surrender_.” The lightsaber moved slightly closer. “ _Do you surrender?_ ” Obi-Wan blinked, realizing he had laced the words with a suggestion. Hill was strong minded, but his eyes looked clouded.

“I surrender,” he said. Obi-Wan looked at him blankly and extinguished his blade, dropping him to the ground. He stepped back as troopers rushed in to apprehend Hill and secure his arrest. Obi-Wan stood there numbly for another moment, and then turned and walked steadily back to the corner of the room, drawn to Cody’s soothing Force presence. 

Obi-Wan leaned his shoulder against the wall next to where Cody was supervising the room, absently looking out with him over the ordered chaos of their teamwork. 

Cody was half-listening for him to begin rambling again, Obi-Wan knew. Obi-Wan was grateful. He murmured, “The Solonids were only able to take over through the loyalty of their legions, you know.” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet. “They had taken the side of the men, over and over. Gave them land, protected the veterans.”

“Did they?” Cody was looking at Waxer and Boil arguing over some minutia and signaling furiously at them.

“Yes. It was really the mandate of the army that ended the war, not any particular person.” Obi-Wan said. “The legions acclaimed a leader, and declared the end of war.”

They stood silent next to each other for a long moment. Cody cleared his throat. “Can you tell in the Force if I’m asking you a question right now?”

Obi-Wan felt Cody’s Force presence bubble with the request that he wear more armor. “Yes, and the answer is still _not if it impacts my agility_.”

Cody smiled. He said, “Now?”

Obi-Wan blinked. The Force was quiet. “No, I don’t perceive that you’re interacting with me at all.” 

Cody nodded. “I thought so. I wondered to myself if you would prefer to send an immediate shuttle with the prisoner back to Coruscant or keep him in the brig, and you want him on a ship to Coruscant.”

“Y-yes. I’d say that.” Obi-Wan looked at him, shaken. “You just knew my instructions without asking?” Obi-Wan looked extremely worried. “This will need monitoring.” He sounded apologetic, eyes flicking over Cody’s faceplate. “I am not doing this on purpose, something is at play that I do not understand.”

Cody made the _no-problem_ hand gesture again. “If we don’t have to worry about coms going down on the field, sir, I think it’s worth a little strangeness.”

Obi-Wan sighed, reassured at least that he wasn’t being pressured to find a solution to a problem that seemed insoluble. “Very true, Cody.” He turned to look back at the chaos of the end of battle. “Very true.”

—

YAVIN 4

As the blade skimmed down his face, Anakin appreciated the fact that without his Force assisted reflexes jerking him backwards a fraction of an inch, the blade would have carved out his eye. As it was, the excruciating pain of his eyebrow and cheek being cut open was a relief. The pain just made him angrier. 

The witch laughed, and Anakin felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He was so furious, so focused. The world tunneled to just her leering grin, her husky taunts. Anakin was going to kill her, make her pay. 

Luckily lightsaber wounds cauterized immediately, there was no distracting blood dripping, just the agony lancing through his head, the dizziness from the shock, but Anakin could stand and fight. The problem was that he had no lightsaber in his hand. She had disarmed and cut him, thrown him back. 

Anakin looked for his weapon, and saw one of hers laying nearby instead. He held out a hand, calling to the blade. The bled kyber shrieked at him, the hilt burning in his palm—he ignored it. Anakin ignited the blade and held up a guard, the unfamiliar red light blending with his angry focus, until all he could see was red. 

He attacked with a ferocity he didn’t know he had, even more than with the Tuskans, even more than with Dooku—he unleashed his hold on the Force, blade moving fast and striking hard. He was beating her back, and back, and then finally out and over the side of the temple, his heart thudding in his ears, breath ragged. He watched her fall and disappear with a roaring sense of achievement. 

He had done it, avenged them. She had suffered, and died. He had made things _right_.

He heard the whispers again from behind him, but he couldn’t understand them. It felt like a greeting. _Μιδιχλῶρ, Ξαίρε Μιδιχλῶρ…_ He turned and looked back down the stairs, into the dark. It felt like a summoning.

Anakin mindlessly followed the sound of the whispers back inside the temple, moving down, not thinking. The storm had cleared, but the steps were wet. He followed, _Ξαίρε Μιδιχλῶρ…_

Finally he reached a room that had only a niche in the wall, and a palm-sized black pyramid resting on a little plinth. It seemed to gleam in the darkness, reaching out, whispering. _Child of the Force, welcome, take it, it is yours, take it…_

Anakin reached out, almost involuntarily, and wrapped his hand around the pyramid and picked it up slowly, thinking that it was neither lighter or heavier than he expected but somehow just exactly heavy enough to seem both delicate and dense. It was cool to the touch.

As he touched it, a figure appeared above, a glimmering holo of a man. Anakin started back, surprised, and almost dropped it. He was an elderly figure, and looked severe in a long black robe. His eyes were keen as they examined Anakin and then he laughed. Anakin was frozen. _What had he done?_

The holocron figure said, slightly patronizing, “Give me to your Master, boy,” and disappeared.

Anakin blinked and shook his head. He didn’t really remember deciding to come back inside the temple, let alone touching what in retrospect was absolutely a Sith holocron. 

_Obi-Wan is going to kill me_ …

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan’s voice came suddenly from behind him. “Do you have transport off Yavin?” He twisted around, and Obi-Wan was standing in the temple with him, near the doorway. He was also on Muunilinest, Anakin knew. He frowned. Why did the bond always seem to connect them exactly whenever Anakin _did not want_ to see him? 

Obi-Wan had gasped loudly at the sight of the wound on Anakin's face and took a step forward. "Are you alright? Anakin!" His thought was projected, _"So THIS is when he got that?"_

Anakin scowled, flinched, and turned away sharply back towards the holocron niche. He considered putting it back, and tossed it up and down in his palm several times. He was still angry, the battle was not settled from his limbs. _He did not want to see Obi-Wan at all._ _Obi-Wan had dropped him and kicked him out, but Obi-Wan ordered him around like a Padawan—even though he made him go and be a Knight!_

“Anakin, are you listening to me? Answer me immediately. The bond may sever at any time.”

“Yes, I can fly her ship back.” Anakin said, voice as level as possible. “She is defeated. I'm fine.” He glared at Obi-Wan. “The men are _all dead_.”

Obi-Wan looked stricken, pausing his forward approach. “What?”

“She killed them all, Obi-Wan!” Anakin yelled. 

Obi-Wan fixed his posture and breathed deeply. “I am very sorry to hear that. You will rejoin the battle group above Muunilinest for medical care as soon as possible in case we are called away. Leave immediately.” He paused and frowned. “What are you holding?”

Anakin did not appreciate Obi-Wan’s tone and he did not appreciate the question. “A Sith holocron probably,” he said irreverently. He tossed it and caught it. “Yavin 4 has a Sith temple, did you know?”

“What?” Obi-Wan’s voice was blank. “You are in a Sith temple?”

“Yep!” Anakin said insolently, tossing and catching the holocron again. He felt beyond caring. Obi-Wan’s eyes tracked the motion. “Why did you send the men, Obi-Wan?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’” Obi-Wan asked, seeming to dislike the question immensely. 

Anakin snapped, posture becoming much less casual, “You shouldn’t have sent men after me! You got them killed!”

“Excuse me?” Obi-Wan’s voice was glacial.

Anakin began closing in, speaking louder and louder, until he was nearly in Obi-Wan’s face, and yelling, “They didn’t need to be here! They didn’t need to come! They didn’t need to die, I didn’t need help, I—”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was the end of the conversation. “Give me the holocron. We must turn this over to the Temple archives, it is too dangerous to be lying around.”

“Fine,” Anakin said, shrugging. “It asked to go to you anyway!”

“What?” Obi-Wan was flabbergasted and then furious. “You SPOKE to the holocron?! Anakin!” 

“Yeah, it asked to go to my _Master_ because apparently I’m still just a _boy_! You’re not my Master anymore! I’m a _Knight!”_

“I’m not your Master?” Obi-Wan asked, voice mild.

“No!” Anakin’s face was red. He doubled down. “You’re not. I’m supposed to take orders from the Chancellor and the Republic Military and the Jedi Council now, not you!…”

“I see,” Obi-Wan said, quietly. “Give me the holocron, Anakin.” He waited and then said, even darker. “Now.”

—

MUUNILINEST 

Cody had walked around the corner, and seen his General alone in a room, talking intently to the wall. He had paused, wondering if this was something he wanted to be curious about or not. He’d then heard the General use a mild tone that made the hair stand up on his arms and he froze. “Give me the holocron, Anakin.” Cody looked over. “Now.” Cody had never heard that tone before.

Cody watched as Kenobi paused as if he was listening to a response, face blank, and then reached his hand forward, wrapped in the fabric of his long sleeve. There was still nobody and nothing there, Cody was sure. Suddenly, the General was grasping a black pyramid that appeared out of nowhere, held by a very angry and injured looking General Skywalker, who Cody knew for a fact was still on the fourth moon of Yavin. Rex had been complaining about it for over an hour.

“Thank you,” Kenobi said, in a chilly tone. Cody swallowed and looked at Skywalker’s face, at the cut down his eyebrow and cheek, his flushed cheeks and his scowl. _That had to hurt..._

“No problem,” Skywalker said in an abrupt and, to Cody’s judgement, unnecessarily rude tone. “Enjoy.” He let go and disappeared. 

The General stood still, and then used the Force to float the small black pyramid into a pouch on his belt, turning around warily. “Hello, Cody.” He seemed to be debating something internally, Cody could read him at least that far. 

“Sir,” Cody said, straightening for a moment before relaxing his posture. “Respectfully…” He searched for the words. “What?”

Kenobi’s posture relaxed a great deal and he laughed warmly, his eyes squinting slightly. “I should have warned you, Cody, I apologize.” He walked over and put his hand on Cody's arm, speaking quietly. “I see now that it was going to be impossible to hide this from you, and never should have tried.” Cody frowned behind his bucket and thought him a question, _"Why is it hidden?"_

Kenobi swallowed and looked away, voice getting quieter. “It is just that it _cannot_ get back to the other Jedi. Can I trust you to keep this secret? Could others of the _Vode_ help keep this a secret, help us protect the bond? What do you think?”

Cody examined his face. “You can communicate without coms? Pass objects? Between planets?” He thought, “ _What kind of Jetiise magic poodoo is this now?_ ”

“Yes, we can do both,” Kenobi said, nodding sharply. “It’s not magic.”

Cody ignored the last part. He was busy considering possibilities. “From what distance?” 

The General shrugged. “Unclear, but very far. Many parsecs. It is something that is still patchy, but happens enough that we are beginning to rely on it, which I suppose is unwise—“ He trailed off, looking at Cody, probably reading him in the Force.

Cody didn’t need to think it through, he knew the answer instinctively. He straightened again and nodded once. “I will help.” _My Jetii is the strangest but he's.... he's jatnese be te jatnese—best of the best.  
_

Kenobi seemed weighed his words, thinking. “Thank you, Cody. Will you tell the men who need to know? Explain what you’ve seen, about how we can communicate and pass objects?” He paused and continued darkly, “Explain that what we do is forbidden by the Jedi Council, and could get us removed from command if discovered?” Cody frowned again at that. _Is this wrong? Dar'jetii? Do I care?_

“Yes, sir.” Cody thought through the order and needed to clarify. “Tell the men? Any of the men in particular? Does Rex know?”

“I believe that Anakin has not been seen, but you might ask him. Anakin is not the most subtle human." Cody shivered at how the General was saying 'Anakin.' It was chilly. Kenobi seemed to shake himself slightly and continued, "I know how word spreads among the _Vode_ , Cody.” He smiled. “Tell those who you think should know, they’re probably going to find out anyway.” Cody laughed. He felt something like _happiness_ at his General’s trust in his judgement of his brothers. Kenobi shrugged, “Might as well make sure they hear it from the source.”

“Very good, sir,” Cody said. “I—”

“Sir! General!” They were interrupted by the pressed tones of the com officer. “We’ve received a distress call!” 

Cody snapped to attention. His General spoke sharply, “Who?”

“It’s coming from Hypori.” 

Kenobi seemed to search his memory for the name. “Is it General Barrek?” 

“Yes, Sir. They need reinforcements, right away!”

The General looked at Cody and nodded. “Gather the men.”

“Right away, General.” As Cody walked away, he thought, _General Skywalker better make the rendezvous, or the General was probably going to actually kill him this time._

_He’ll probably kill him anyway._

_Di'kutla Jetiise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a double update, so there's another chapter after this!
> 
> Or do you not want to read the one scene so long it became it's own chapter ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Μιδιχλῶρ, Ξαίρε Μιδιχλῶρ, Μιδιχλῶρ = (I didn't know how to type out Sith whispers so I wrote it in Ancient Greek) = 'Midichlōr, Chaire Midichlōr'  
>  _Vode_ = Brothers  
>  _jatnese be te jatnese_ = best of the best  
>  _dar'jetii_ = Sith ('no longer a Jedi')  
>  _Di'kutla Jetiise_ = Idiotic Jedi


	5. Repair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is number two of a double update, so there's another chap before this! :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!

THE NEGOTIATOR

Obi-Wan’s cabin was small, but Obi-Wan didn’t really need a lot of space. He was hunched over his small desk, sorting through a pile of data pads, lips pursed. His chest felt tight. They’d been in hyperspace for more than an hour, but perhaps the adrenaline from the battle hadn’t left yet. Perhaps Anakin was driving him insane. It was probably both.

He had disobeyed orders, fell into a trap by the Sith, almost died, had the audacity to yell at him, denied Obi-Wan was his Master… Obi-Wan felt hot, and Obi-Wan had a headache.

The door opened suddenly and Anakin knocked as he entered, barging into Obi-Wan’s space. It appeared that he _had_ made the rendezvous after all. It had certainly been close. Obi-Wan clenched and released his jaw and then looked up slowly, setting down his data pad and turning his head. 

Anakin had stopped in the middle of the room and stood at attention like a trooper. “You requested to see me, General?”

Obi-Wan felt a pounding in his ears as he pushed his chair back, standing up and facing him. “You are angry with me, Anakin?” His voice was steady and mild.

Anakin’s posture was straight, eyes fixed straight ahead, his Force presence roiling. “No, General.”

“ _General_ …” Obi-Wan mused speculatively, looking Anakin up and down. He had been by medical, the lightsaber slice that _he never should have gotten while leading a battle in space_ was closed and covered. He must have spent some energy healing himself as well, it looked smaller than he'd remembered. Anakin shifted uncomfortably under his observation.  


“Am I your _Master_ , or not?” Anakin was silent for a long pause, grinding his teeth. Obi-Wan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. 

“No! You’re not!” Anakin finally snapped back. “You asked them to Knight me early! I didn’t have to go so quickly and you know it. You’re not my Master, you gave it up!”

“We discussed why, Anakin.” Obi-Wan wanted to wring his neck with frustration. They’d talked about this. “You _know_ I was under observation from the Council, and they were evaluating our level of attachment.” Obi-Wan began pacing, he couldn’t stand still. “They want to give me a Council seat, for some reason, Padawan. I had to advocate for separation, or they will never give it to me.” Obi-Wan said, flatly. “You are hurt by this, I gather?”

Anakin’s posture straightened, his voice sharp. “I thought you were going to help me, but you left me alone!”

Obi-Wan pressed on his temples, rubbing in small circles. “We talk constantly, Anakin!” He couldn’t help speaking louder. “We are connecting through the bond almost daily now!”

“And that’s too much!” Anakin said angrily, abandoning his trooper-pose and putting hands on hips, holding his elbows wide from his body, chest thrust out. “The Chancellor was right, I am too reliant on you. I need to make my own decisions!”

Obi-Wan felt like ice water had been poured down his spine. “When did you and the Chancellor discuss me, Anakin?”

Anakin’s voice was defensive. “I had a strategy meeting with him before I deployed for Muunilinest.” 

“Did you?” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet.

“Yes.” Anakin said, his Force presence spiking with desire at Obi-Wan’s dangerous tone. Obi-Wan felt incredibly irritated at his arousal, teeth grinding and nostrils flaring as Anakin continued proudly, “The Chancellor said I am one of the most gifted pilots in the galaxy and put me in charge of the space battle.”

“I knew he had done the latter, despite my reservations.” Obi-Wan let his contempt color his tone. “I should have assumed he’d done the former.” 

“Reservations?” Anakin was furious, face red. “We won!”

“You abandoned your post to engage in a personal spat with an enemy ship, ultimately abandoning the battlefield entirely.” The contempt in Obi-Wan’s voice was only growing. “You chased a _starship_ around _city streets_ , because you were baited into following like a _youngling_. You were clearly not nearly ready for that kind of responsibility on your first assignment as a Knight.”

“I’d been with you to plenty of battles, _Obi-Wan_ , I don’t lack experience.” Anakin replied, blushing. Obi-Wan could feel his mixture of shame and desire radiating out into the Force. Obi-Wan clenched his jaw when Anakin nevertheless said in a confrontational voice. “We won today. You always try to bring me down, the Chancellor recognizes when I do well.”

“Yes, perhaps I am trying to bring you down, Anakin!” Obi-Wan snapped, “But I’m trying to bring you down to a healthy median, not plunge you into self-loathing!” He stepped further away, trying to not get muddied up in the pool of desire around Anakin in the Force. 

Obi-Wan continued stridently, “I’m trying to teach you to have a reasonable ego. You are one of the most transparently proud people I’ve ever met. You wear your faults on your sleeve, Anakin! It’s too easy to take you apart, figure out how you work, flatter or provoke you! You are not ready to be leading battle, and you are not ready to be having dinner with politicians by yourself! Do you understand?”

Anakin was blushing. Obi-Wan could feel his _want_ thick in the Force. He said petulantly, “You don’t have control over me.” 

Obi-Wan’s voice was slippery. “Don’t I?”

“No.” Anakin raised his chin.

“Interesting.” Obi-Wan began to circle him, looking him up and down, considering the difference between his desire in the Force and his outward defiance. “How very interesting. I see what is going on here.” He stood directly behind Anakin, and said coldly. “You’re testing me.”

“What?” Anakin looked around, eyes wide. “No, I’m not.”

Obi-Wan did not feel amused. “I will not play these games with you, Anakin.”

“What games?” Anakin said forcefully, turning to face him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“I suppose it is my fault,” Obi-Wan said, resuming his circle. “I was putting off claiming you properly until you were a Knight.” He smiled. “Consider it a lingering hangup about fucking your Padawan.”

Anakin didn’t appear to know what to say to that, but the vulgarity made his arousal spike. Anakin asked vaguely, “What?”

“A promise that I made to myself, when I was sixteen.” Obi-Wan said. “Technically, I’ve broken it all the times I’ve let you be _helpful_ , but I’ve learned to live with that.” He smiled. “You really don’t shut up otherwise.” Anakin flushed. Obi-Wan observed the spreading color and continued to pace. “You feel neglected, is that it?”

“No.” Anakin scowled. “That’s not what this is about.” He puffed himself up again. “You tried to get me denied opportunities to command! You’re trying to hold me back!” Obi-Wan paused in front of him, searching his eyes. Anakin looked away, eyes flicking down. Obi-Wan watched him swallow nervously.

“Yes, I see.” Obi-Wan sighed. “You do feel neglected.” Obi-Wan began circling again. “I’m sorry, dear one. You know we haven’t been in the same place for very long since you were Knighted.” He raised an eyebrow. “I will point out, however, that it has only been several weeks, not an eternity. There is no call for this level of tantrum.”

“Tantrum!” Anakin started. “How dare—”

“No!” Obi-Wan cut him short. “How dare you! How dare you disobey a direct order like that? This isn’t a backwater planet fighting a corrupt mining company, Anakin. This is a war! Your defiance could lead us into—” 

“She’d killed all of Blue Squadron and was taunting me!” Anakin couldn’t seem but help but burst out angrily. “I had to pay her back for what she did!”

“No, you did not.” Obi-Wan snapped, voice a lash. “You absolutely did not! That is precisely why you are not ready to be in command of _toy soldiers_ , let alone an actual squadron of men. You abandoned your station and endangered every other pilot in the sky, Anakin.”

“I had dealt with the primary threats.” Anakin’s voice was sulky, now, the Force sticky with his desire and resentment. “They were just mopping up. We’d basically won.”

“Basically.” Obi-Wan parodied his tone cruelly. 

“Yeah, basically!” Anakin turned to march away, and Obi-Wan’s hand struck out lightning-quick and grabbed him by the bicep. 

“You are not leaving, Anakin. Stop trying to always run away from consequences!” Obi-Wan shoved him back around, exhaling disgustedly. “You let yourself be led like a bantha to slaughter directly into a trap by the Sith! The Sith _knows you_ well enough to lure you to use the dark side in a _Sith temple_ and trick you into taking a _Sith holocron!_ Is that what happened or not?” 

Anakin scowled, “No, not—”

“No?” Obi-Wan’s eyes were cold. “Stop playing, Anakin. Listen to me.”

“I’m not—” Anakin stopped when Obi-Wan laid a hand over his mouth.

“You will listen.” Anakin nodded unwillingly. “Good.” Obi-Wan removed his hand. 

“The Sith wants you dead or recruited, Anakin. That is the only explanation for today. That’s why they baited you, in particular, and drew you to the Sith temple.” Obi-Wan paused, so Anakin nodded again, eyes fixed on the opposite wall. 

“We’d assumed that already, but this is _confirmation of that hypothesis_ , and it is extremely concerning, Anakin.” Obi-Wan looked at him seriously. Anakin nodded again once, curtly, his arousal clouding the force. 

Obi-Wan frowned and continued fiercely, “We need more information.” His voice sounded strange. “Try to keep the next one who comes for you _alive_. I need to ask them _questions_.”

“Fine.” Anakin snapped, jerking back and turning again to go. 

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was dangerous. “Stop.”

“Why should I?” Anakin’s taunt was almost childish.

Obi-Wan sounded very calm. “Because I told you to.” 

“No!” Anakin said, as he stepped forward towards the door.

“We have more to talk about!” Obi-Wan’s sharp voice was laced with a suggestion to stand still. Anakin stopped. Obi-Wan asked his back, “Why are you dripping with the dark side, Anakin?”

Anakin shook off the mind trick and turned around. “What?”

“Why is your Force signature snarled with darkness?” Obi-Wan was drawing closer. “What happened on Yavin 4?” 

“Nothing!” Anakin said, fists clenching, frustration flaring.

Obi-Wan leaned in, pressing his face close to Anakin’s. “You will tell me the truth, Padawan.”

“Nothing happened,” Anakin whispered fiercely. 

Obi-Wan moved his mouth to Anakin’s ear. His voice was cold. “Strip.”

Anakin’s Force signature spiked with lust and he said, uncertain, “What?”

Obi-Wan continued to speak coolly. “You’re lying to me.”

“So?” Anakin sounded confused.

“Anakin, don’t test me!” Obi-Wan snapped. “You asked me for this. Take it, or I will cease giving it to you.” Anakin clenched his jaw, standing still. “Make your choice, Anakin. Strip and tell the truth, or lie and leave.”

Anakin swallowed. He glared forward at the wall and took off his belt, dropping it haphazardly on the floor. He did not look at Obi-Wan as he continued to take off his clothes, blushing furiously, jerkily removing layer by layer, dropping them in a heap on the floor in front of him, until he stood naked and hard before Obi-Wan in the middle of the room, hands crossed in front of him.

Obi-Wan nodded once in approval and said, “Kneel and look at the floor.” Anakin gave him one last look before dropping to his knees and lowering his gaze. He placed his hands on his thighs, resting them very near to his hard cock. Obi-Wan was not impressed.

“Hands behind your back.” Anakin slowly obeyed, clasping his hands behind his back. He paused for a moment and then flushed red at the position he had put willingly himself in. Obi-Wan let him sit in that realization for a moment before reinforcing, “Do not move.” Anakin did not move. “Good.”

Obi-Wan began to pace around him in a circle. “Did you use the dark side to defeat the warrior on Yavin?”

Anakin swallowed and stared at the ground. “No.”

“Are you sure about that?” Obi-Wan’s walk was smooth. Anakin’s eyes tracked his feet, he was breathing hard, face red.

“Yes.” His voice shook.

Obi-Wan’s tone was conversational. “Did you know I can almost taste it in the air when you lie?”

Anakin cringed. “No.”

“No, what?” Obi-Wan was standing behind Anakin, and chills ran down Anakin’s spine. 

“No, Master.” He whispered. 

“Better.” Obi-Wan paused, then continued circling. Anakin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Obi-Wan’s voice was low when he repeated the question, “Did you use the dark side to defeat the warrior on Yavin?”

“M-maybe, Master.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Better, but not sufficient, Anakin. Try again.”

“It’s probable, Master.” Anakin swallowed loudly. “I was angry when we fought. I created a thunderstorm, I think. It rained on us and only us. I used one of her red blades to defeat her. It felt good.”

“Show me.”

“What?” Anakin looked up.

“Head down.” Obi-Wan rebuked him. Anakin looked back down. Obi-Wan walked closer, and rested his fingers lightly on Anakin’s forehead. “Think about your fight.”

Anakin remembered it all, as best he could from beginning to end. It felt like he was overfull in his own mind, a mild discomfort, but he did not resist Obi-Wan’s Force signature as it flooded and plundered his memory. The images flashed by _flight—explosion—Grist’s blood—jungle—red blades—falling—pain—clashing blades—anger—rage—_

Obi-Wan let his fingers drop away. “You _did_ touch the dark side to defeat the warrior on Yavin.” His voice was glacial. Anakin’s cock throbbed, arousal spiking in the Force, and Obi-Wan glared at him. “There was absolutely no need for you to even be there in the first place, let alone slide further into darkness. We’re not six months into a war that threatens to stretch into years, Anakin. You are falling too fast!” 

Obi-Wan reached out with his hand, grabbing Anakin’s hair and at the same time reached out with his mind, roughly pulling at all the accumulated darkness, causing Anakin to whimper. Obi-Wan sunk into all the swirling pockets of resentment and anger, pulling them out and drawing them into the bond, accepting them into himself, fingers gripping tight. 

These days Obi-Wan seemed to have a vast black emptiness inside where he could hide all of Anakin’s anger and rage. All of his own anger. No other Jedi had ever sensed it before, even Master Yoda had only skimmed right over it—blind to the gaping void inside him—during the last Council meeting. 

_Hard to see, the dark side is._

“This is too much!” Obi-Wan scolded as he accepted Anakin’s darkness to hide. Anakin did not respond, so Obi-Wan scowled and shook Anakin’s head slightly with his grip on his curls—Anakin’s eyes were unfocused, and he was panting. Anakin was projecting heavily, radiating in the Force, swimming in pleasure, the sensation of having his worst faults absolved and exorcised from inside the fabric of his soul was too intoxicating for him to stand. Obi-Wan growled.

Obi-Wan had discovered that his removal of the dark from Anakin’s Force signature was akin to a wave of acknowledgement and forgiveness that felt like a warm, cleansing mental embrace to Anakin, that it was a sensation more pleasurable and tingly than any possible head massage, and that it was incredible. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, annoyed at his enjoyment, and shoved Anakin’s head down hard, roughly releasing his curls.

_“Please, Master, I need—”_ Anakin’s urge to touch himself was painful, and in reply Obi-Wan reinforced a suggestion that he keep his hands behind his back. Anakin whined, needing friction so badly, rubbing himself against Obi-Wan’s mind to get stimulation, asking, begging. Obi-Wan snapped.

“If I fuck you, Anakin, will you begin to obey orders? Or will it make you worse?” Anakin looked up hopefully at the rough sound of Obi-Wan’s voice and Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and snapped, “Head down!” Anakin fixed his posture while maintaining eye contact for a moment, dipping his head and reclasping his hands behind his back, and finally lowering his gaze to the floor. “I can’t reward you for behaving badly, Anakin, surely you understand the dilemma you put before me?”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said obediently. 

“You never learn the right lessons from anything I’ve ever tried to teach you.” Obi-Wan’s voice was cold and Anakin flushed, his cock throbbing painfully. 

“If I fuck you now, it should be for correction, not for a reward. And yet I do not want our first time together to be a punishment.” Anakin whimpered. “This is quite a dilemma, Anakin.” Obi-Wan stood before him, adopting a mockingly thoughtful posture. 

“I think you need to convince me that you understand everything you did wrong.” Obi-Wan smiled mildly. “If you convince me you understand, I’ll fuck you. If you don’t, I won’t. It will really be quite that simple, _Padawan mine_. Do you understand?” The last three words were extremely kind. Anakin shivered, his cock ached. 

Obi-Wan enjoyed his discomfort—Anakin had been such an insolent, insubordinate brat on the battlefield and then after his little _jaunt_ to the Sith temple he’d been even worse. Obi-Wan wanted Anakin to know just how badly he had done, and more than just know. He wanted him to feel _sorry_.

Anakin tried to think, it was so hard when he felt almost light-headed with how hard he was. Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force was taunting, like he knew and appreciated the difficulty that Anakin was having in formulating a response, and it made it even harder for Anakin to put words together. His voice was quiet. “I didn’t follow orders.” He swallowed. “Master.”

Obi-Wan stopped pacing and nodded. “Correct.” He began pacing the opposite direction, circling and staring. “What else?”

Anakin shifted uncomfortably, hands clasping and unclasping behind his back. “I… I used the dark side when I was fighting on Yavin.” A silence stretched and he added. “Master.”

Obi-Wan’s heels clicked together, stopping crisply. “Indeed, you did.” He pivoted and began striding in the opposite direction again, asking, “What else?”

Anakin whined, slumping. “I don’t know! How much more is there?”

“Oh, dear,” Obi-Wan said sadly. “I don’t think you understand anything about today at all. That is disappointing.” Obi-Wan bent down and began to gather up Anakin’s clothes, as if to return them. He felt a wave of horror radiate from Anakin at the idea.

“I sh-shouldn’t have left the men.” Anakin said quickly. Eyes still fixed determinedly again on the ground. “Master, it was wrong to leave the men.”

“Correct, dear one.” Obi-Wan began folding the clothes. “It was wrong. What else?”

Anakin hung his head and mumbled. “I shouldn’t’ve chased’er through the streets.” 

Obi-Wan hummed negatively. “Speak up, Anakin.” 

Anakin tried again, emphasizing every word. “I should not have chased her through the streets, _Master_.”

“Very good, you should not have. What else?”

“I should not have…” Anakin began to look up for feedback but checked himself. He swallowed. “I should not have picked up the holocron in the temple.”

“Very good, Padawan.” Obi-Wan’s voice was dangerously calm. Anakin’s clothes were in a neat pile, and he moved back around to stand above Anakin, speaking down to him in a mild voice, “You should not have. It was extremely foolish for you to have done so. I wish I could say that I was surprised to discover that you’d been so arrogant as to assume nothing would go wrong with that little stunt, but you very well could have been entirely wrong, Anakin.” 

Anakin whimpered at the rebuke. 

“I’ll pretend for a moment that you missed ‘absolutely do not touch Sith memorabilia day’ in the Temple archives as a youngling. I know you attended because I attended with you, Anakin, nevertheless—I will pretend.” Obi-Wan began pacing around him again smoothly, looking back at him pointedly. “You could have _died_. You could have been _possessed_.” Obi-Wan’s voice was both fervent and cold. “Confirm you understand the danger of what you did.”

Anakin shivered and looked at the floor. Obi-Wan liked how his blush had spread down to his ears and his chest, his Force signature boiling with his shame and regret. “I understand, Master.”

“Explain to me why you did it anyway, Padawan.” Obi-Wan ordered. 

“It told me to take it,” Anakin said, hanging his head. He was painfully hard, his ache permeating the bond. 

Obi-Wan made a small noise indistinguishable from a growl, clenching his fists, letting his disgust pour back through the Force. “You know better, Anakin!”

Anakin said shakily, overwhelmed, “Yes, Master.”

“And yet you never act like it!” Obi-Wan pivoted sharply and gestured up with his hands. He was growing very dangerously exasperated. “Why, Padawan? Why do you know rules and refuse to apply them? Acknowledge rules and refuse to abide by them? You know the rules, do you not?”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said. “I know them.” He projected, “ _Please give me what I deserve, I made so many mistakes_.”

Obi-Wan looked at him for a long moment, incredulous. Anakin still wasn’t getting it, Obi-Wan needed to push him further. His voice was a weapon, so he used it, tone lashing. “I’m not convinced, Anakin.” Anakin cringed. “I don’t believe that you understand everything about today.”

“Master, please…” Anakin begged, aching. “Please, I’m sorry, what else do you want me to say?”

“You are the one who is supposed to be convincing me you understand, Anakin!” Obi-Wan let his disappointment color his voice. “Try!” Obi-Wan needed him to talk about the real issues, needed him to face the hardest parts, needed him to be _sorry_. He pushed a suggestion through the bond. _“Try!”_

Anakin was silent for a long moment before saying all at once: “Master, I shouldn’t have yelled at you for sending men after me when I flew off after her.” Anakin said it all very fast. “I shouldn’t have gone, I’m sorry I yelled at you, Master, that woman, she killed them, it was so _bad_ , their bodies, Master did you see in my mind, their bodies were so broken. Kobo, Weltsy, Brats? Grist?” Anakin was tearing up, wanting to look at the ceiling and blink them back but with his head bowed they began to collect. He swallowed hard.

“I saw, Padawan.” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet. This was closer. “I know. I understand it was overwhelming.”

“She was laughing at me, laughing about them.” Anakin’s voice was thick. “I didn’t want them to be dead.” He sniffed. “I don’t.”

“Me neither, Padawan.” Obi-Wan sighed, and ran a hand over Anakin’s head, stroking him gently. “Ultimately, neither you nor I killed them, dear one. The Sith did. We are complicit but not responsible. Not that it helps any.” He pet his curls again. “Good, you’re nearly there, darling.”

Anakin sniffed and pressed his head into Obi-Wan’s touch, eyes still down. “You are my Master, _Master_.” He gulped. “I shouldn’t have said you weren’t. I shouldn’t have flown off without orders. I shouldn’t have touched the holocron when it whispered.” His voice broke. He pushed on, thicker, “I’m sorry, Master, I’m sorry I was so angry, you got rid of me so fast and then the Chancellor, he was so _nice_ to me.” He sobbed.

“Shhh…” Obi-Wan stroked his head again. “Very good.”

“I’m sorry… I’m so _sorry_ …” Obi-Wan could tell that Anakin wanted very badly to wipe the tears from his face, and was proud when Anakin didn’t move his hands, letting one teardrop fall to the floor, and then another. Anakin sniffed loudly, and sobbed again, leaning into Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan smiled. 

“You did well, today, in space,” Obi-Wan said gently, stroking him, reassuring him. “The men said you saved many lives, flew with incredible skill.” Anakin sniffed. “You are a remarkably gifted pilot, Anakin, you don’t need the Chancellor to tell you that.” Anakin’s shoulders shook and his head hung. Obi-Wan stroked him again. He had done well. 

Obi-Wan grabbed him firmly by the back of the neck, pulling him up from his knees to bring him back up to stand before him. Anakin’s eyes were red, face shiny with tears, his nose blocked, chin quivering. He stood, Obi-Wan’s hand still holding his neck firmly. 

“You know that, here.” Obi-Wan tapped fingers hard on his temple, then stroked softly next to his cut. Anakin blinked and refocused on Obi-Wan’s face at the sensation. “You need to know that, here.” Obi-Wan moved the hand to Anakin’s chest, tapping hard on the heart and then gently laying it on his chest, reassuring him in the Force.

Obi-Wan could feel Anakin’s heart beating quickly under his hand. Anakin was projecting waves of need and shame into the Force—he was crying, he was so hard, he was so tired, _he was so sorry_ …

“Come here, dear one.” Obi-Wan’s voice was so kind. “Come sit down on the bed. It’ll all be alright, Padawan.” Anakin sobbed again involuntarily at the reassurance. Obi-Wan felt proud, stroking him gently and leading him forward. “It will be alright. You’ve convinced me that you understand the magnitude of your errors today. Do you understand what you did wrong?”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin sniffed loudly. “I understand. I’m sorry.”

“Good, very good." Obi-Wan sat Anakin down, and began to wipe the tears from his face with his sleeve, cleaning him up, gently avoiding the bandage under his eye. "You did well, Anakin."  Anakin sniffled a little quieter, beginning to feel better as Obi-Wan took care of him. He looked at Obi-Wan’s face, trying to read him. Obi-Wan made sure his eyes were soft, his expression kind. 

“I’m sorry.” Anakin’s voice was quiet and raw. “I’m really sorry.”

“I know, dearest one,” Obi-Wan said, matching his low volume. “Let me give you some new advice. It’s alright to _be_ angry, but you have to know when it’s alright to _act_ angry, Padawan. You _acted_ angry today, and it caused many problems.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to be angry,” Anakin said in a small voice. “That’s what you told me. That I had to give it all to the Force, be calm all the time.”

“That’s what I was taught since I was a small child, Anakin. That’s what the Council says, what their Code teaches. I was doing my best, but I was wrong.”

“You were wrong, Master?” Anakin said this like it was a nonsensical impossibility, like saying that the galaxy was made of cheese. “You’re never wrong.”

”Oh, Padawan...” Obi-Wan sat down next to Anakin heavily and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, hugging him tight to his side. “You know that’s not true. I have been very wrong about very important things.” He sighed, and began again, quieter. “You can be angry, but you have to _know_ when you’re angry and decide to use the anger or not. That’s the new rule.”

“I can be angry?” Anakin asked cautiously. “You’re not disappointed in me for being angry?”  


Obi-Wan squeezed him again in confirmation. "No, Padawan. I am not.”  


Anakin looked over at him with skepticism, his face and naked body both so endearingly vulnerable. His face was split by that awful cut Obi-Wan had been waiting twenty years to see in person— _had been promised to see._

Obi-Wan couldn’t help himself and he reached over, cupping Anakin’s chin, studying his trusting eyes. _He was so perfect._ Obi-Wan's lips curved up in a smile as he tipped his head forward, kissing him gently.

Anakin almost sobbed again, it was so soft.

Obi-Wan deepened the kiss with deliberate slowness, his lips caressing Anakin's with increasing pressure, licking into his mouth.  Anakin moaned and relaxed into his arms, his head feeling heavy in Obi-Wan's hand.  Obi-Wan's thumb rubbed his cheek, his other arm wrapped around, holding him tight.

Anakin's hands twitched, and Obi-Wan pulled his head back, his eyes flicking over Anakin’s expression. He listened in the Force as Anakin projected, eyes wide and cheeks flushed pink, _“Please, Master._ _It aches so bad, can I please—”_

Obi-Wan gave him a small, knowing smirk and reached down, slowly brushing his fingers along the length of Anakin’s hard cock. Anakin’s whole body jerked, and he let out a pained moan. Obi-Wan gripped the head of his cock more firmly and Anakin gasped, “Thank you, Master.”

“Of course, dear one.” Obi-Wan stroked his hand up and down slowly, making Anakin groan, his hips jerking slightly. “Is that good?”

“Yes, please, I like it, Master.” Anakin swallowed loudly and took a deep breath. “I need you to touch me.” He projected, _“Please, I’m sorry, please will you fuck me, Master, please, I really want…”_

“Very well.” Obi-Wan shifted from sitting on the bed next to Anakin to kneeling in front of him, Anakin’s cock still held lightly in his grasp. “I’ll take care of you first, Padawan. I’ll make it better.”

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin said, disbelieving. “Thank y—” Obi-Wan bent down and licked the head of Anakin’s cock and then took the rest in his mouth, sucking gently. Anakin let out a “Oh! Ah, _e chu ta_.” He radiated surprise and relief in the Force so strongly Obi-Wan’s stomach flipped over in surprise and relief as well.

Obi-Wan sucked on Anakin’s cock, licking the soft skin and pleasuring him, rewarding him for telling the truth, for apologizing. He gently cupped Anakin's balls, and looked up at his face. Anakin's mouth hung open, his breathing fast and shallow. 

Obi-Wan's attention slipped into the Force, and suddenly he was also in Anakin’s mind, seeing as Anakin looked disbelievingly down at the sight of his Master, his Obi-Wan, _his Master’s mouth_ around his cock, his Master’s lips against his skin, the warm, wet, sliding mouth along the length, the head of _his_ cock deep in _his Master_ , brushing the back of his throat. It was so unreal, he was already buzzing with pleasure.

Obi-Wan sucked harder, blinking up, maintaining eye contact. He felt lost in the bond, overwhelmed with pleasure as he let Anakin’s cock slide deeper, hitting the back of his throat.

Anakin gasped and abruptly came hard, his eyes fluttering closed and moaning loudly as come began to spill out of him.  Obi-Wan caught it on his tongue, swallowing Anakin’s come just as Anakin had swallowed his own so often in recent months.

Obi-Wan felt the Force tremble strongly, echoing Anakin's orgasm, compounding it, a wave of sensation rushing through Obi-Wan too, making him shiver with pleasure. He pulled back slowly and blinked, confused, after he swallowed. 

“Padawan—”

“Master—”

They spoke at the same time. Obi-Wan continued, voice shaky with pleasure. “What was that? You felt it too, I assume?”

“I don’t know…” Anakin’s voice was dazed, he sounded slightly intoxicated. “But it felt in the back of my mind… It was like when you’re trying to get a key in an analog lock over and over and then suddenly it just goes in. _Clunk_. You know?”

“Oddly enough, Padawan, I do know exactly what you mean.” Obi-Wan frowned. “It felt like something gave way, some kind of barrier at the back of my head.”

“That was…” Anakin’s brain was still nonfunctional, his orgasm still tingling in his limbs, sweet fatigue swamping his senses. “Weird.”

“Yes, it was.” Obi-Wan couldn’t believe the tingling, radiating joy that was lingering in his body. He felt so alive, so awake, so aware. “It felt very, very good, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s eyes traced Anakin’s long, relaxed body, his golden skin. Obi-Wan’s fingers stroked gently along Anakin’s side, and his gaze fixed on Anakin’s metal hand, _his dreams._

Obi-Wan felt drunk, dizzy. He had been so angry earlier, and then Anakin was so powerful in the living Force that Obi-Wan was sure that being near him while he was aroused was stronger than any aphrodisiac on the market, and it was targeted specifically at him.  Lingering frustration from the day surfaced in his mind, mixing residual anger in with the pleasure radiating in the bond. His eyes grew sharper and he said, “Lay down and turn over, Padawan. I want to fuck you, now.” 

Anakin looked up at him, eyes wide, hopeful and disbelieving. Obi-Wan felt like he was losing control of the words coming out of his mouth. “You’ve been so incredibly irritating today, Anakin, I had been looking forward to seeing you crying out as you take my cock. Do you still want it? Because I would very much like to give it to you.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said in a daze. Obi-Wan smirked and pinched him, and Anakin started and scowled. “Of course, Master.” He slumped ungracefully to the side and huffed a laugh at his own lassitude. He rolled over with effort, his oversensitive cock feeling too much friction from the sheets. He began to adjust himself when Obi-Wan put a hand on his hips. 

“Be still.” Anakin froze and Obi-Wan slid a pillow beneath his hips, adjusting him to how he wanted him. “Very good.”  Obi-Wan stepped away into the small ‘fresher attached to his bedroom and grabbed the lube that he was extremely grateful that he had remembered at the very last moment to include with his kit. Staying in control was becoming difficult. It was hard to care, though, when Anakin was laid out for him, waiting for him. 

Obi-Wan looked at him as he methodically removed and laid aside his clothing. Anakin was watching him in return, his eyes glowing with happiness, the bond alight.  Obi-Wan got up on the bed, kneeling behind Anakin, moving closer between his legs. Anakin shifted them apart further, arching his back and exposing himself hopefully. 

Obi-Wan smiled fondly.  He ran a hand along Anakin’s calf and asked through the bond, _“What’s the largest thing you’ve put in your ass, Anakin? Fingers? No toys, no other men?”_

Anakin wriggled slightly, pressing his cock against the pillow. _“My fingers, Master, just my fingers, I never…”_

Obi-Wan stroked him reassuringly at his insecurity. “Very good, Padawan, I like that, thank you, I like that you waited.” 

Anakin’s relief and pride saturated the bond.  “Please, Master, please, I need it, please, now, now….” He wiggled again, and Obi-Wan swatted him lightly.

“I’m not going fuck you before you’re open enough to take it, do you understand?” Anakin whined, and Obi-Wan huffed in exasperation. “I know you want me to hurt you, I know everything about what you want—but not today, alright? I will take you how _I want_ to, and _I want_ you not to feel discomfort.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said, readjusting his hips slightly, pushing his ass further up and back, his face burrowing down into the pillow—slightly savoring the discomfort from his cut. His grumbled _“Thank you, Master,”_ was muffled by the bedding. 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and then smirked, looking over the expanse of bare skin below him. His cock throbbed with anticipation, enjoying Anakin’s submissive posture. He pushed apart Anakin's knees and arranged his legs to spread them even wider, closing in.  Anakin whined at being positioned, his Force presence trembling. 

Obi-Wan hummed in response, running his palms up the backs of Anakin’s thighs, hands coming to cup and squeeze his ass, grabbing and spreading his cheeks, exposing him more. He bent down, his mouth pulled down to Anakin's skin as if drawn by magnetic force, and he licked the sensitive skin around Anakin's entrance briefly, exploring with his tongue.

"Master!" Anakin moaned and squirmed, and Obi-Wan leaned back, removing his hands, making Anakin whine. 

“Stay still, Padawan.” 

Anakin stilled immediately, and Obi-Wan opened the lube. He slid one hand down Anakin's spine, pressing down on his back to keep him still, as the other hand began to gently rub lube around his entrance. Anakin moaned helplessly at the soft contact. _He was so incredibly tight._

"Relax," Obi-Wam murmured, pressing a slick finger in gently, beginning to slide it in and out carefully until he was fucking Anakin with it easily, and only then added a second finger. 

Anakin whined and shifted impatiently, so Obi-Wan held his hip harder, probably bruising him with his grip, keeping him in place and fucking him faster with two fingers. He scissored them and pressed down, opening him up more. Anakin cried out, and bucked his hips against the pillow.

Obi-Wan's voice came out husky and low, “Very good, Padawan, you’re doing so well, being so patient, I think you’re ready for another.” Anakin nodded fiercely against the mattress.

Obi-Wan added another finger, and Anakin moaned, beginning to thank him over and over at the stretch. Obi-Wan began fucking him gently with three fingers, until Anakin was whining and begging, he need loud in the Force, _“Please, Master, please, I will do anything, please, I’m ready, I need it….”_

Obi-Wan’s fingers moved easily now. He enjoyed the sight of Anakin, so ready to be fucked. _He’d dreamed about this for so long._ To feel Anakin’s heat on his fingers, to make him slick and open… It was almost too much. Obi-Wan's cock was impossibly hard, and it was becoming impossible for him to wait, too. He removed his fingers, and Anakin looked back sharply over his shoulder, alarmed. “What?”

Obi-Wan laughed at his expression, and asked, “Are you ready?” 

Anakin blinked back at him for a moment, then scowled.  “Obviously! I’ve been asking for it for about _forever_ , Master.” His voice was exasperated and thrilled, his hips shifting slightly. “Can we? Now?”

Obi-Wan stroked his back and said, “Yes, dear one.” He repositioned Anakin’s legs and lined himself up, rubbing Anakin’s ass gently with the head of his cock. Anakin whined in desperation, bucking his hips back slightly, begging for it. 

Obi-Wan paused for a moment and swallowed, eyes flicking over Anakin’s body, acknowledging for the last time what he was about to do. Anakin looked back and caught his eyes, understanding in the Force that this was important for Obi-Wan. He nodded and sent a wave of approval, and Obi-Wan nodded back, feeling oddly solemn. He gripped Anakin's hips and thrust forward, slipping the head of his cock inside, letting the pressure of the tight, warm hole surround him, the world narrowing to that point. He stilled, eyes closed.

Anakin gasped and then began to whine and babble, “Yes, finally, yes, more!” He wriggled his hips. “More, now, more, more please?”

Obi-Wan swatted him lightly. “Stop moving.” Anakin stopped. “Relax.” Anakin tried to relax, and Obi-Wan smiled at the effort, stroking his back gently. “Good, very good.” He began to push in, letting him adjust, pressing in inch by inch. Obi-Wan knew he was large, and that it would be a stretch. He opened himself totally to the bond, swimming into the mutual space between them, aligning himself exactly to the limit of what Anakin could take and pushing in until their hips met, and  Anakin was finally taking all of it.

Obi-Wan’s eyes slid back in his head for a long moment, the bond between them thick with awareness, completely surrounding and encompassing them, connecting and reflecting—uniting. Obi-Wan moved his hips gently as a test, and Anakin took it perfectly, no pain, so Obi-Wan fucked in harder.

Anakin moaned with incredulous pleasure, and Obi-Wan began thrust deep and slow, fucking him deliberately with increasing roughness. Their hips slapped together, and Obi-Wan smiled at the sound. 

Anakin whined, projecting his incandescent joy at being useful for Obi-Wan, that Obi-Wan was using his body for his pleasure. Obi-Wan slammed his hips in hard at the thought, squeezing more bruises with his fingers on Anakin’s hips. He appreciated the sway of Anakin’s back, the way he put his ass up and face down for Obi-Wan, the way he submitted to him. 

Obi-Wan slid a hand down his spine to his long neck. He tangled a hand in the short curly golden mess, glad to see no Padawan braid, no Padawan haircut. _A Knight, he was fucking a Knight._ His hips continued to slap forward, fucking Anakin roughly and he pushed down on Anakin’s head, shoving his face into the mattress, murmuring in a low voice, “Take it, yes, good, you take my cock so well, _Padawan_.” 

Now that he wasn’t his Master, Obi-Wan was free to be his _Master_. Obi-Wan smiled again. _Hopefully this would clarify things for Anakin. He had seemed so dreadfully confused about who he belonged to, before._

Anakin overheard the thought in the bond and jerked his hips down, moving on Obi-Wan’s cock, pressing and rubbing his cock against the bedding, fucking himself back against Obi-Wan. He was almost sobbing with pleasure, overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Obi-Wan grabbed hard and steadied his hips, holding him down to continue to fuck him hard, his own orgasm beginning to tighten in his stomach and shudder along his spine. Anakin unexpectedly came again, and the Force swirled around them, almost eddying, completely intoxicating. Obi-Wan asked, disbelieving, “Did you just come on my cock, Padawan?”

“Y-yes, Master,” Anakin said, his voice incredulous and dreamy, face pressed against the mattress, taking Obi-Wan’s cock completely passively now, back swayed, submitting totally to Obi-Wan using his body. “Yes, Master. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and stroked his back, thrusting in deliberately, appreciating the way Anakin took it, took it like he was _born_ to take his cock. “You’ve done so well, Anakin, so very, very well.” Obi-Wan’s voice was a rasp, his thrusting speeding up. “I’m going to come in you now, put my come in you.”

“Thank you, yes, please, thank you, yes,” Anakin was murmuring out loud as he projected into the bond, “ _Master, please, come, Master._ ”

Obi-Wan grabbed his hips, thrust in once more, and came hard. Pleasure rolled up back through his brain and down, sparking through his body, his come spilling deep into Anakin. He groaned, and Anakin whimpered at the sound, his face rolling to the side, looking up at Obi-Wan, catching his eyes. 

The Force caught and held them both, causing them both to shudder at the strange sensation. It felt like a bell had been rung, somewhere outside the range of hearing. Something was rippling through the room. 

Obi-Wan slipped out of Anakin gently, exhausted. He looked down at Anakin’s prone figure in front of him, eye contact lingering with Anakin’s unfocused, pleasure-filled gaze. Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, and Anakin’s mouth drew up into a smile, flashing white teeth. Anakin was beaming, and Obi-Wan’s heart felt tight. _He was so beautiful_. It echoed in the bond, and Anakin somehow blushed even deeper. 

Anakin’s Force signature was much less dark, Obi-Wan observed. Obi-Wan’s own darkness seemed to remain unchanged, hidden beneath his shields, maybe even a little larger. Anakin’s Force presence seemed cleaner though, somehow. _Cleaner_ … Obi-Wan looked down at their bodies in disgust, his need for cleanliness spiking. He maneuvered Anakin out of bed, leading him over to the ‘fresher and turning on a quick sonic for them both. Anakin stood there looking vacant and relaxed, his Force signature stable and quiet. 

Obi-Wan smiled. He dressed Anakin in a spare set of sleep clothes, and led him back to his bed, changed the sheets and tucked him in, sitting beside him. Obi-Wan was not tired, not really. Anakin fell asleep almost immediately, a soft smile on his face, his head pressed against Obi-Wan’s hip. 

Obi-Wan looked down fondly and watched him sleep for a few minutes, trying to understand what they’d experienced in the Force. Suddenly he became aware that he was not alone, his head snapping up. 

Obi-Wan looked at the holocron to find that it had been opened somehow, an elderly man in a black robe looking at them from atop his perch on the deceptively delicate looking black pyramid. It looked gleaming and precious in the shadows, the figure flickered and stabilized. 

“Noticed me, have you?” The voice was deep and amused. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, slightly at a loss. “How did you get activated?”

“You two did something _very interesting_ in the Force and I wanted to come take a look.”

Obi-Wan frowned and said warily, “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Forgive me.” The austere man bowed his head fractionally. “I am Darth Solon.”

“What?” Obi-Wan looked at him closely. “Who? You can’t be.” _Was it possible? Solon, the First Good Emperor, was a_ Jedi _not a Sith…_

“Have you heard much of my Empire?” Darth Solon asked, in the tone of one willing to give a lecture.

Obi-Wan looked incredulously around the room. _Was this really happening to him? Was he imagining this_? He looked back at the holocron. He swallowed and answered, “Yes,” in the tone of one willing to hear a lecture.

Obi-Wan ended up deciding not to turn the Sith holocron that Anakin had brought back from Yavin 4 over to the Archives. He had questions, and it was just so refreshing _for once_ to speak to someone with answers—Lord Solon, First Good Emperor of the Remulans, instigator of the Peace of Solon—his hero. _Darth_ Solon, apparently.

Anakin slept gently beside him, and Obi-Wan stroked his hair. 

He had much to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes dreams really do come true *wipes eyes dramatically*
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! I had fun writing it haha
> 
> Check out [this piece of art](https://unpheenix.tumblr.com/post/618006982378586112/obi-wan-moved-his-mouth-to-anakins-ear-his-voice) by unpheenix it's the best
> 
> Moving into 2008 Clone Wars material soon! I'm figuring out Ahsoka's place in all this tbh, if you have suggestions put them in the comments :)


	6. Reciprocity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kindness this fic is receiving is unreal and I'm so glad that people are enjoying it!! 
> 
> I'm working on Clone Wars (2008) material haha but here is another bridge chapter with knight!Anakin.
> 
> We've seen that Anakin definitely needs Obi-Wan, but does Obi-Wan need Anakin?
> 
> Thanks for reading :)

THE NEGOTIATOR 

1 month after the battle of Muunilinest

“Can _you_ explain why the dark side seems to turn most people into mad dogs?” Obi-Wan asked, glaring at the slightly-too-bright screen of his data pad. He was very tired, and had progressed to the ‘reading his coms in bed’ phase of his nighttime routine. “And tell me why Dooku seems relatively _coherent_ for a dark side user?”

Darth Solon scowled over at him from his position on the desk. “The dark side only makes you become more of who you always were. As you fall, you become more like _yourself_ , and your personality is merely realized and carried to its natural extreme. Those who become mad dogs were not worthy of the power they craved. It destroyed them.” His voice was disdainful. 

“Some are _worthy_ , however?” Obi-Wan was studying a holo of Dooku’s latest propaganda speech. “They can remain sane in the darkness?”

“Oh, their madness is just of a different sort.” Solon’s chuckle was without humor. “At extreme, all personality is a disorder, all individuality is a divergence. There will be a certain loss of reality that happens no matter what.”

“Dooku seems well engaged in reality,” Obi-Wan complained.

“Some defects can be strengths in the right context.” Solon said. “He was likely always arrogant, but now his understanding of empathy is damaged, or eradicated entirely, which will make it easier for him to stomach being responsible for the loss of billions of sentient lives.” Solon studied the holo as well. “His pride will also be his downfall—he believes his own story.” His lip curled with disgust. “That’s the sign that the madness has won.”

“How so?” Obi-Wan looked over, and studied the expression on Solon’s flickering face. “Believing your own story is wrong?”

“Yes,” Solon said, his deep voice sounding strangely rueful. “None of us fully understand ourselves and our role. It will only become clear in retrospect. To assume you know your story is delusional. This _Dooku_ will likely be a minor player in the unfolding of events, yet he believes that he is either king or kingmaker. He does not understand reality.”

Obi-Wan thought about that for a long, quiet moment, watching the fervent gestures of Dooku’s hands. “How do you avoid it? It seems like the natural instinct. Thinking you understand reality.”

“Well, _don’t assume_.” Solon’s frown was forbidding. “The game is always bigger than one mind can fathom. One cannot forget the agency of other players on the board. Much is and will always be beyond control.” He looked grim. “Total control is both the highest goal and the greatest delusion of the Sith, and is always their downfall.” 

Obi-Wan tapped his data pad against his knee thoughtfully and continued reading his coms for awhile, the topic stewing in the back of his mind.

Obi-Wan finally asked, “Would you define victory as taking total control of a situation?” Solon frowned and nodded. Obi-Wan continued, “ _Through strength, I gain power, and through power, I gain victory_ ,” Solon nodded again at the Sith Code. “If strength is finite, that means no power is absolute, so no victory is truly final, and there is no such thing as total control. Is that what you meant?”

“Indeed,” Solon said, with a moderate amount of patience. “Remember the Code of the Sith _begins_ with the truth that _‘Peace is a lie’_ —All victories are contingent and transitory, and that is the _true heart_ of the teachings.”

“Peace carries within itself the seeds for the end of peace, as you’ve said,” Obi-Wan said, thinking. “The leftovers of past conflicts are the ingredients of future wars.” 

Solon nodded again. “Yes. No victory is total, so every victory is also a strategic defeat in some respect—with respect to other players who have a share of power. There _must_ consequently be _more_ struggle. More conflict.”

“So a good Sith should like conflict, but shouldn’t like winning too much?” Obi-Wan was very confused, finally thumbing off his data pad and tossing it aside, turning finally to really look at the holocron of the Emperor for the lesson. Solon raised an imperious brow. 

“Winning, winning.” He made a dismissive hand gesture. “The ultimate winner will be the one who is willing to _lose_ a battle in order to gain more strategic positioning in the ongoing war. The one who would choose to endure and _fight on_ rather than attempt a complete victory once and for all, and _stop the fight_. Only the mad dog chases winning without thought of tomorrow, and a mad dog can win a battle but never wage a war. War is ongoing, never final—struggle is the lifeblood of both society and the individual.” Solon shook his head. “This is the paradox of power, and why this _Dooku_ will lose and be unprepared.”

“The fact that he has a plan to win everything means he will lose?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yes,” Solon said. “He _is_ mad, even though he is of a more refined madness than most. He believes completely that he both knows what victory looks like and what he needs to do to achieve it. He thinks that he can make grandiose plans using the behavior of every person in the galaxy as anticipated in his own imagination—” Solon’s voice grew increasingly strident, watching as Obi-Wan looked away and pulled his data pad back over towards himself, as if Obi-Wan’s attention had wandered. It definitely had not. Obi-Wan was listening. “— _Dooku_ is trying to play dejarik with pieces that may choose to leave their squares. If he doesn’t continually supervise and accurately alter his predictions, he may soon be playing with a board that no longer reflects reality.”

“So… if I don’t disturb his plans, I could stay invisible to him? If I seem to have stayed on my square?” Obi-Wan had pulled up and was watching the holo of Dooku’s speech from Serenno again. “Does he truly have such a restricted range of vision?”

“He will easily believe your façade if it contributes to his narrative,” Solon said. “He will ignore small signals that you are not who he believes you are. It is the nature of his madness to see his own story written into the world. Try not to wave any massive red flags, and you will slide by his notice. This is also how you can walk unseen through the Jedi temple, _Σιθαρίς_.”

Obi-Wan scowled at him for the undefined term, which he despised. Solon used it occasionally, but it never registered correctly into Basic, was always slightly undecipherable, and he could never catch it clearly enough to pronounce. _Sitharis?_ Same with what Solon called Anakin, Μιδιχλῶρ. _Midichlor? Was that like midichlorian_? Solon refused to explain. It was apparently some kind of untranslatable old Sith magic and Obi-Wan could never even hear it clearly enough to reproduce it. It wasn’t as if Solon were mumbling, either. The words simply resisted full perception, and Obi-Wan did not appreciate it.

Obi-Wan forcibly refocused on what had been said, turning off his data pad and tossing it aside for good. He moved under the covers and asked quietly, “Is that why the Jedi haven’t noticed my darkness? Because they’ve already decided who I am?”

“Yes,” Solon said with a kind of glee. “The Jedi are equally vulnerable. Their arrogance is what blinds them too.”

—

CORUSCANT

“Who is she, Master?” Anakin asked quietly. He had finally found Obi-Wan in the Halls of Healing, which, as he thought rather grumpily, was an extremely unlikely place for Obi-Wan to be. Anakin had spent far too long tracking him down.

“Master Depa Billaba,” Obi-Wan said gravely. The bacta tank was the only thing lit in the room, and the light cast an eerie glow on his face as he stood before it, looking up. “She is on the Council, and was Master Windu’s Padawan learner. You know who she is.”

Anakin looked at her dark, glossy hair bound in complex braids. They floated strangely in the thick density liquid. Her face was beautiful and severe. “I mean, yes. But I’ve never seen her like this.” He gestured at the tight, white garments worn in the tank. “I was a little put off.”

Obi-Wan looked over at him, and grinned. “I suppose it is a bit distracting.”

“It is!” Anakin grinned back. Their smiles both faded and they looked back in the tank. “Why is she here?”

“She has fallen to the dark side of the Force.” Obi-Wan spoke quietly. “She has been responsible for several atrocities, and is under arrest.”

“What?” Anakin looked at him, his heart suddenly pounding. 

Obi-Wan continued to study her face, sending Anakin a wave of calm through the Force. “She was sent on a mission to Haruun Kal to stop Separatist activity. She got involved in an internal conflict, chose a side, formed an unsanctioned Force bond with a local Force sensitive warlord.” Anakin raised his eyebrows, Obi-Wan nodded and then sighed. “She is a master of Vaapad, you know. Very dangerous to fight. Mace had to search the jungles for her, and she attacked him.”

“She attacked her own Master?” Anakin said, looking back at her serene expression, horrified. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, sounding sad. “She was insane. The darkness changed her, Anakin. She lost herself.” Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s gaze as he studied Anakin’s profile intently before continuing. “Apparently she regained her self-awareness at the end of the fight, and tried to end her life with her own lightsaber to atone for the atrocities she committed while lost in the dark. It is perhaps best she is in this coma, for now.”

“Lost in the dark,” Anakin said, very quietly. He began projecting, instead, _“What does that really mean?”_ They tried not to talk over the bond in the Temple, just in case anything registered as off with any of the surrounding Masters, but Anakin felt awkward asking for more information out loud in the quiet Halls, even with no-one else around. He also had a sense Obi-Wan didn’t want to talk there.

_“That’s what I’m trying to understand too, Anakin. What I just told you is Master Windu’s version of events—”_ Obi-Wan’s tone was growing frustrated, “— _obviously I was not a witness to any of it. I don’t know how reliable he is as a narrator. I wish I could ask her, but she’s being kept under.”_ Obi-Wan turned away from the tank and began to walk away. Anakin hastened after.

_“Being kept under?”_ Anakin asked, confused and concerned.

Obi-Wan was walking very quickly and Anakin tried to read his mood, reaching out and sliding through his shields. He recoiled quickly in surprise. Obi-Wan was afraid. Anakin stared at the side of his head as Obi-Wan projected, _“As far as I can tell she is being kept in that coma, but I don’t have access to her full medical records, only some stray thoughts I pulled off the healers, nothing conclusive.”_ Anakin did a double take when he heard that Obi-Wan had been skimming thoughts from Jedi Healers before smiling at a group of younglings running down the hall and then nodding to the harried looking crèche-master trailing after.

Obi-Wan had continued unceasingly down the hallway, looking composed and smiling a friendly greeting to Master Gallia. Anakin hastened to catch back up. _“I cannot enter her mind without physical contact, Anakin, not while it’s shrouded in so much darkness, and I can’t_ ask _to do it because my own use of that Force ability would be considered_ dark _. Nobody will explain to me the nature of the injury that caused her coma and what is causing it to endure. Everything about it seems just slightly_ off _to me, Padawan. Why is she still asleep?”_ Anakin swallowed as he considered the implications. They walked on in silence.

Anakin dutifully waited to speak further until they reached their rooms, until Obi-Wan had shut the door, and until Obi-Wan’s posture had relaxed. Only then did Anakin ask what he’d been dying to know all along: “Why are you even at the Temple right now? I thought the 212th was on the Corellian Run. I thought I was going insane or that the bond had mutated again when I woke up knowing you were on world, but was sure I’d seen Rex checking in on the 212th right before I went to bed and getting an update from the Outer Rim.”

“Cody is there.” Obi-Wan said, shortly. “I am here. We don’t advertise my location, not since Grievous seems to have taken a particular _fondness_ for me after our recent altercation.” He stretched out his legs on their uncomfortable, minimalist couch, and began attempting to arrange the pillows to support his _not-injured_ back. “They are giving me Master Billaba’s seat on the Council, Anakin. I had to come back for the administrative aspect of the takeover of responsibilities and alteration of my identity record and access keys.”

“Ah!” Anakin said, a rising feeling in his stomach. _Finally_. “So with your new access, can you read the super-classified intel? The _Sith_ intel?”

“I am going to be abominably close to the top of the military hierarchy now, Anakin, so yes. I will have access, and _trust me_ I’m excited.” Anakin laughed and Obi-Wan smiled slightly. Finally settled on his pillows, Obi-Wan let out a long sigh, allowing his uncertainty to radiate unshielded into the Force. “This really is all just so strange and far too hasty. I am not old enough to be on the Council, let alone a High General. They keep giving me responsibilities far beyond my reasonable capacity. I don’t understand why. There are hundreds and hundreds of more qualified, more senior Jedi.”

“It’s good though, right?” Anakin asked, confused. _Who would possibly be better?_

“Absolutely.” Obi-Wan said before making a face. “Maybe. If I can handle it. I’ve never been in charge of hundreds of thousands of men, soon to be millions, Anakin. The scale of this war is truly alarming, the size and complexity of the galaxy is staggering.” Anakin nodded, sure that this was probably true, and he just was missing ninety percent of it as usual. Obi-Wan sounded on-edge. “This war is designed for the Jedi to fail, and I don’t enjoy failing.” Obi-Wan’s growing anxiety made Anakin’s eyes narrow. He had to fix this.

“Is Darth Sleemo helping?” He asked, trying to irritate and distract. 

“Emperor Solon has been helpful, yes,” Obi-Wan sent him a small reprimand and thanks through the Force. “His story really is remarkable, Anakin. How he deceived both sides, rewrote his own history...” Anakin nodded encouragingly and went to their small kitchen, boiling water. _Tea would help._ Obi-Wan kept talking to his back. “The holocron is thousands of years old, you know. His perfect understanding of modern Basic is incomprehensible to me, and he won’t explain if it’s some kind of spell, or if he was around people the whole time and his language naturally evolved with them. The latter possibility is concerning. I’m leaning towards some kind of Sith spell that’s probably drawing his language out of my head, because…” He trailed off.

Anakin looked back out of the kitchen and made the _no-problem_ hand gesture at Obi-Wan to get him to keep talking. He’d observed Cody using it as a distraction tool for whenever his Master’s anxiety was spiking. It worked surprisingly well as a release valve for his stress. It was convenient that the sound of his Master’s voice was also his own favorite sound in the galaxy.

The signal triggered speech, as was intended. Anakin smiled as he pulled down the mugs, but then grew concerned as the words came in a flood instead of a ramble. “I feel like I’ve known him, Solon, for much longer than I actually have, Anakin, and it’s very alarming. Is that why I read so much about him as a Padawan? I think I must have dreamed of him too, but I don’t remember any of those dreams. _Why?_ ” Anakin began to hurry as fast as possible to assemble the tea. 

Obi-Wan continued, speeding up. “I feel like I have déjà vu constantly here at the Temple, sometimes so strong it can make me feel nauseated, Anakin, and it’s happening more and more, but I don’t ever remember anything about my dreams except _you_ and sometimes the war so I’m continually getting a sense of recognizing things and _I don’t remember why they’re important_. I’m reading too many minds too easily and I’m having trouble staying present in the living Force when you’re not around as anchor and—”

Anakin was suddenly back with tea, which he shoved into Obi-Wan’s hands to slow down the speech that had dramatically sped up. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, leaning forward over the mug slightly, letting the damp, scented heat wash over his face. He grumbled when Anakin pulled on a leg, but raised his feet up amicably enough, and Anakin slid underneath, sitting on the couch with Obi-Wan’s legs draped over his lap, rubbing on his shin, trying to reassure him.

“They’re keeping her in a tank, Anakin.” Obi-Wan murmured. Anakin looked to examine the cracks in Obi-Wan’s mask to guess what might be happening, but when he saw Obi-Wan’s expression his stomach dropped. Obi-Wan’s mask wasn’t on at all. Anakin studied his open face, capturing it and storing it in his memories, almost guiltily—his Master’s vulnerability was so rare and precious that Anakin treasured it despite the cause. Obi-Wan’s blue eyes were so sad, so afraid. “Is that better or worse than just killing her?”

Anakin tried to reassure him. “I’m sure they’ll let her out once her wounds are healed, Master.”

“I wish I was so certain,” Obi-Wan said, bleakly. “Doesn’t that show how far my trust in the Council has fallen? My gut instinct is to believe that they’re keeping her sedated, because they’d prefer to deal with the dark _later_ instead of _now_.” He winced, having accidentally straightened up in anger and pulled on his _not-an-injury_ injury. Obi-Wan sat back gingerly, and sighed. “They think inaction is wisdom, and that it shows restraint, not cowardice. They’re wrong.”

Anakin caught Obi-Wan’s eyes and intentionally took a sip of his tea, subconsciously prompting Obi-Wan to take a sip of his own tea. It worked, and Obi-Wan drank without seeming to notice he was doing it, until the flavor distracted him. Anakin enjoyed seeing the moment he noticed he was drinking. Anakin shook his head and refocused. 

“I could ask the Chancellor—“ Anakin began and Obi-Wan looked at him sharply, his glance demanding an immediate explanation. Anakin rolled his eyes and said defensively, “—who I saw _from a distance_ in the Temple in the Halls when I had to do my physical upon arrival with the 501st. We did not speak. The Chancellor was with Yoda and Windu, I think they might have been visiting her room.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened and he looked speculative. “Chancellor Palpatine was in the Halls with Yoda and Mace? About Depa? How very strange.” Anakin could feel his fear beginning to dissipate in the Force as he began to solve a puzzle. He had to get him planning, that was the only real way to get Obi-Wan functional again. 

“Do you want me to ask?” Anakin prompted.

Obi-Wan took another sip of tea, eyes flicking over Anakin’s face, weighing the odds that Anakin would _kriff_ _it up royally_ , he assumed. “Yes,” Obi-Wan eventually said. “What does a _politician_ want with a comatose rogue Jedi? Is it about Haruun Kal?” His eyes sharpened. “I am curious, and I want to know.” 

“I will try to find out, Master,” Anakin said, nodding decisively and taking a sip of his own tea.

“Just tell him you saw him in the Halls and were curious about why he was there.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him. “Do not attempt to approach the matter sideways or get him to unintentionally slip anything. He will not. Ask him what you want to know, but don’t get pushy.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin blushed and smiled into his mug. When Obi-Wan was lecturing, things were back to normal. “I will not try to be clever.”

“You _are_ fiendishly clever, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, making eye contact, tone sincere. “Don’t mistake my meaning. I want you to know that.” Anakin blushed very deeply, eyes flicking between Obi-Wan’s. “You are perhaps not especially _subtle_ with your wordplay, or exceptionally _patient_ at asking questions, or overly _sensitive_ to the particular nuances of terms used by politicians to ensnare or entrap people—” Anakin shifted to keep his growing arousal away from Obi-Wan’s legs. _Why did he have to look me in the eye and then talk like that?_ “—but you are very clever, dear one… and also not very good at shielding your thoughts.”

Anakin huffed, overwhelmed by sudden arousal and then the sudden attention to that arousal. “Well, it’s not fair. All you have to do is talk.” 

Obi-Wan took a sip of his tea and set the mug on the low table with a pleased expression. “I know.”

Anakin glared over but couldn’t hold it, and they ended up smiling at each other for a long moment, their bodies gravitating closer, before Obi-Wan’s com link chimed. Anakin’s chimed several moments later, and then both began chiming at the same time. They broke eye contact and looked over at the source of the noise, before looking back at each other, already exhausted. 

Obi-Wan frowned slightly and then Anakin suddenly shuddered, eyes falling closed. Obi-Wan had sent a wave of his attention across the bond—in, around and through Anakin’s mind, very quickly and very deeply, checking and possessing him, making Anakin waver slightly and then blush crimson. 

Obi-Wan nodded once, satisfied. “Time to work, Padawan.” 

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said, licking his lips. He took a few more moments to attempt to return blood to his brain. “Let’s go.”

—

ARANTARA

The last thing that Rex remembered, he had been cut off. He’d been yelling on his com, shooting droids, and looking directly at the target generators.

Now he was on the ground, looking up at the sky. Everything felt fuzzy. Somehow his faceplate had been cracked clean off. _How close to the explosion was I?_ He tried to move his toes and fingers, and was relieved when they suddenly hurt a great deal. At least he wasn’t paralyzed. He breathed intentionally, deeply, to test his ribs. Aching but no stabbing. All in all, he thought, as he stared at the sky, he was going to be fine. Probably. He just hurt, a lot. 

He’d be fine unless a droid shot him while he was lying down—his _least preferred_ imagined death. He closed his eyes and listened. His bucket was cracked in half, no coms coming through. The battlefield was extremely quiet. Had they won or lost? Had he been left for dead? He would need to get up to find out, and he estimated he was at least twenty minutes away from standing up. He suddenly felt very tired, and sunk back into the black.

The next time Rex woke, it was because he’d subconsciously recognized that the warmth on his face had been replaced by sudden chill—the sun had been blocked. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up to see something very similar to the form of General Skywalker bending over him. He blinked. Skywalker wasn’t planetside. Rex’s vision was blurry. He coughed to test his voice and then said, “You… came for me.” 

Skywalker was looking him over, and grumbled apologetically, “It should have been _me_ that went in the first place.” 

“Thank you, General.” Rex murmured. He began to feel suddenly much less like he’s been run over by a transport. Must be some _Jetii Force poodoo_ that Rex appreciated a great deal. His brain was getting back on line. “You would’ve been helpful, sir” he said in a deadpan tone, moving his fingers and toes, wrists and ankles.

“A leader always leads from the front,” Skywalker said with surprising conviction. Rex focused hazily on the General’s face. He looked fierce, and sorry. “I should have been here.” 

Rex heard both the words and the sentiment behind them, and took both to his heart and stored them in the special place he had for the General. How much he cared for the _Vode_ , how much he was willing to risk for them, how much he suffered on their behalf. He swallowed down a swell of emotion. 

The General suddenly looked over his shoulder and began talking to the empty air. “Yes, I know.” Rex frowned at the sudden annoyed expression on Skywalker’s face. “I’m working on it!”

“Who are you talking to, sir?” Rex felt a swell of trepidation. _They can’t have been serious. They’d been having a go at him._

Skywalker held out a hand and suddenly was holding the elbow of a stressed looking General Kenobi who was glaring at them both. “Get out of there, you do not have time to banter. Air support is on its way. Do not get caught in friendly fire.” He made significant and charged eye contact with General Skywalker, and pulled away, igniting his lightsaber as he disappeared. 

Rex saw Skywalker observing his face warily, waiting for his reaction. Rex blinked and grumbled. “That’s… sure, sir. That’s great, sir.” He laughed once. “Great and totally normal, sir.” Skywalker looked happily at him as Rex shook his head in resigned acceptance of something else totally kriffing crazy. _It’s always something weirder and weirder._ He complained, “I owe Waxer 10 credits. I thought Cody was joking.” 

“You seriously bet credits on Cody telling a joke?” Skywalker smirked and Rex huffed a laugh. “Let’s get moving.” He hauled Rex’s arm over his shoulder and they began to go.

Rex grunted, that had hurt. Everything hurt. He focused on keeping his feet moving on the ground, trying to get himself together. He finally asked the burning question, “This is really such a big secret? Other _Jetiise_ don’t do this too?”

“No, they don’t, or can’t. I don’t know…” Skywalker said, readjusting his hold on Rex’s arm. “Obi-Wan says that we could get in a lot of trouble.”

“Why, sir?” Rex asked, attempting to match Skywalker’s rapid pace, tripping slightly and out of breath. It hurt to move. 

“Well, I personally don’t see why it’s such a big deal…” Skywalker began, resentfully. With effort Rex pulled his head up to look up from the ground to see the horizon—he could hear air support incoming. By tacit agreement, they both sped up. Skywalker continued in a breathless rant, “… but apparently the Council would freak out and try to break us apart in the Force, which would be really traumatic and we wouldn’t be able to see each other, probably for at least like a decade and even then it would be like, always supervised and discouraged. Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments.” 

“That’s…” Rex processed. He tried to imagine not being able to care for his brothers. “None of the other _Jetiise_ care about other people, sir?”

“They care _in general_ ,” the General said, with the sound of someone who has given this particular rant before and would give it again at the slightest provocation, “Jedi can have _compassion_ for all beings, but no _attachment_.” His voice grew more serious. “They will care when a trooper dies and try to prevent it, or they should,” Skywalker said, answering the real question. “They’re supposed to care.”

“That’s good, General.” Rex was out of breath. “Great. Where are we going?”

“Oh, the transport’s over the ridge.” The answer was huffed out of heaving lungs. Air support was almost there, and they were moving fast. Skywalker was basically dragging him, at this point. Rex tried as hard as he could to keep his legs moving. “They’re waiting for us.” The noise was getting louder. “We’re almost there…”

They crested the rocky hill and slid over the other side at a sprint. The doors of the LAAT were open, everyone holding on and strapped in, ready to depart. They made it in and the pilot took off immediately—the ship made it out before the bombs began to fall. Barely. The noise behind them was indescribable, the proximity to the explosions radically unsafe. They made it. Rex released a disbelieving breath. 

They made it out. 

Rex looked over at the cocky smile and bright eyes of his General, his flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. He had almost died to pull Rex from the field. _A leader always leads from the front,_ he’d said. Rex smiled slightly and relaxed. His _Jetii_ was _jatnese be te jatnese._

_Best of the best._

_—_

THE RESOLUTE / THE NEGOTIATOR

Anakin was technically in his own room on the Resolute, relaxing on his narrow bed with his back against the wall, appreciating the fact that he was finally not wearing his boots. It had been a long day of fighting. He was watching Obi-Wan pace angrily back and forth down the length of his identically shaped room on the Negotiator. The bond really was convenient sometimes.

“There is no top-secret Sith intel file, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was very calm, very quiet, and devoid of human warmth. 

“What?” Anakin was aghast. “What do you mean?” 

“There have been individual investigations into specific rumors,” Obi-Wan explained carefully. His anger made the air around him prickly with a cloud of undirected power. The hair stood on Anakin’s arms. “There is, however, no underlying, unifying, systematic investigation. There is no file. There is nothing of significant value to me. The Sith Lords remain as elusive as ever.” 

“I just don’t understand how that can be true.” Anakin said, evaluating the degree of tension in his Master’s walk. It was very bad, again. Anakin swallowed, trying to suppress the itch to fix it. He didn’t know how, exactly, but it was an overwhelming urge to help. “Master, why do you think that’s the case?” Anakin watched as Obi-Wan turned his head towards where Darth Solon must be talking. Anakin made a face, he hated having to share attention with a dead Sith. “Master?” 

Obi-Wan held up a finger and Anakin pouted.

“The Emperor is correct, Anakin. This discovery functionally makes no difference.” Obi-Wan nodded once towards Anakin’s bare desk. “I’ve known since Kamino that the Temple archives have been tampered with, that the information systems of the Temple are not secure. Any intel would likely have been compromised by the Sith anyway.” His frown intensified. “It would, however, have been _nice_ to have evidence that the Jedi Council had been dealing with the threat responsibly. They, of course, _have not_.” 

He walked by Anakin’s legs, and Anakin felt tempted to stick out a leg and trip him. Obi-Wan shot him an extremely dirty look, and he didn’t. “I need to get in contact with the Jedi Shadows, but that is not a simple thing to do without causing ripples in places I don’t want ripples.”

“What would you need to ask them?” Anakin asked, as Obi-Wan made another lap. He noticed that Obi-Wan was paying attention to his desk again, nodding to something Anakin couldn’t hear. “Master?” Obi-Wan gave him an exasperated look, and then looked apologetically back at the desk. Anakin scowled. “You can talk to him all the time, Master. I’m here now!”

“The bond has been connecting us for longer and longer, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “I apologize if this is no longer a special treat.”

Anakin looked down, hurt. “Ok, Master.” He reached and slid over his data pad, pulling up a summary of the day’s action on Arantara. He had been proud, he’d managed to get Torrent Company out of a killbox using only his lightsaber and his determination. He’d saved almost all of them. He had done well that day. He refused to let Obi-Wan bring him down. “I get it.” 

“Stop.” Obi-Wan’s voice was sharp. “I don’t have the energy for this, Anakin.”

“Energy for what?” Anakin said, not looking up. “I’m not bothering you anymore.”

“Stop sulking.” Obi-Wan had stopped pacing and was standing in front of him. “It’s irritating.”

“Ok, Master.” Anakin said again, clenching his jaw. “Sorry.” He moved off the bed, sliding around Obi-Wan and standing up, not looking at him. “I’ll go, now.”

“No,” Obi-Wan said to his back. “Sit back down.”

“I don’t think so,” Anakin said. He looked for his belt, eyes finally landing on its tail sticking out from under the bed. “I want to go see how Rex is doing. He was hurt pretty bad.” He crouched down, and pulled out the belt with satisfaction. He stood up straight, looking for his boots. “You can ask Darth Sleemo how to find the other Darths. You don’t need me here for that.” He pulled the belt around his waist. He said quieter, “You don’t want me here for that.” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s voice was mild. “I told you to sit down.”

Anakin scowled at the fastener of his belt, trying to get it to snap into place. “And I said no. I’m going.”

Suddenly Obi-Wan’s hand was on his fastener, pulling it out of Anakin’s hands and pulling the belt off his waist roughly. Anakin jerked his head up to see Obi-Wan’s cabin, making eye contact with an unamused Darth Solon. 

Obi-Wan spoke very quietly. “I told you to sit down, Padawan.” Anakin looked away from the Sith to meet Obi-Wan’s frustrated eyes. Anakin’s face crumpled a little. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it wasn’t fair that Obi-Wan was so mad at him. “Stop pouting!”

“Sorry, Master,” Anakin said, looking down again, inexplicably feeling close to tears. Obi-Wan had let him go, and he was back in his own room. Obi-Wan was still in front of him. He wished that the bond would disconnect, he wanted to be alone. Anakin sucked in a deep shaky breath and suddenly he was angry, the feeling rising up against his sadness, rejecting it. He raised his head again and met Obi-Wan’s glare. “I’m going.”

They held furious eye contact for several long seconds, and then Anakin was swept through by a searching, searing wave of Obi-Wan’s attention in the Force, making him feel unsteady on his feet. He involuntarily closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, shuddering. As soon as he did, he was moving, Obi-Wan having grabbed his wrists and pushed him back down hard on the bed, yanking his arms above his head and then using the Force to hold them in place near the metal bars of the headboard. 

Anakin pulled ineffectually, his eyes reopening to see Obi-Wan holding his belt and examining his wrists. Obi-Wan raised a deliberative eyebrow and then began wrapping Anakin’s wrists and attaching him to the bar. Anakin pulled against him again. “I want to go, Master.” 

“Do you?” Obi-Wan’s voice was absent. “Are you sure about that?” He clicked shut the fastener, and stood back, examining his handiwork. Anakin was now attached to the bed. “I know that you do not.” Another wave of attention made Anakin feel limp and he stopped pulling against the belt. “Good.” Obi-Wan stepped away and continued pacing, looking intently at the desk. “Say that again, Solon?”

Anakin looked at the ceiling, trying to evaluate what was happening. He tugged experimentally on his wrists and wanted to moan at the feeling of being bound. He was feeling light-headed and hot, he was getting painfully hard. Obi-Wan had tied him down, and was now ignoring him again. He tried for anger but his body very much betrayed how much he liked where he was. 

Obi-Wan’s face appeared over him, looking down. “Better?” Anakin swallowed and nodded reluctantly. “Good.” Obi-Wan gently ran a hand through his hair, fingers scratching and Anakin’s eyes fluttered shut. The grip tightened suddenly and he whimpered. Obi-Wan used his hold to turn Anakin’s head, pulling an ear up closer to his mouth as he leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Be quiet, Padawan.”

“Yes, Master,” came out a whine. “I’m sorry.”

“I really don’t think you are, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was absent again, and he was looking back at the desk. He laughed at something the holocron said, and Anakin’s cock throbbed at Obi-Wan ignoring him while pulling his hair. 

Obi-Wan seemed to catch the thought and looked down, smirking. He dropped Anakin’s head and stepped away again. Anakin shifted, pulling on his wrists and made a disapproving sound. Obi-Wan said, “Quiet.”

Anakin could hear the familiar sound of Obi-Wan’s robes swish and his boots click as he paced back and forth beside him. His conversation with the holocron was a low murmur. “I suppose that I could contact Vos, but I’d almost rather eat my lightsaber.”

Anakin stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out how Obi-Wan tied him while on the Resolute when _he should only be able to pull Anakin to the Negotiator, not enter Anakin’s side at will_. _Anakin should have had to initiate contact for Obi-Wan to appear on his ship! It’s not fair, the bond was too powerful! Nothing was fair at all, why was Obi-Wan so mad anyway? The Council was Sith-appeasing cowards, but he knew that already! The battle of Arantara went well, Obi-Wan’s team hadn’t even suffered losses! Anakin had made it out in plenty of time, he hadn’t even_ really _been in danger!_

“You are thinking very loud,” Obi-Wan said. “I asked you to be quiet.”

Anakin was so frustrated he wanted to rip the belt off the bed with the Force and punch Obi-Wan in the face. He knew that it would be unwise, but he pictured it extremely clearly and extremely loudly in his mind. 

“Really?” Obi-Wan’s face was over him again. Anakin barely resisted the urge to snarl, pursing his lips and looking away pointedly. “Luckily, this is a problem I can fix.” 

“What?” Anakin turned his head back sharply. “What do you mean, ‘fix’?” Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at him for a moment before he reached down and suddenly palmed Anakin’s cock roughly through his pants. Anakin moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. He was so hard, it wasn’t fair. 

Obi-Wan smirked as Anakin’s hips arched into his touch. He continued to rub him, squeezing as he pulled his fingers down along the length and then massaging the head just shy of too hard, giving him the friction he was craving. Anakin was panting, pulling against his restraints. 

Obi-Wan suddenly moved his hand away and Anakin’s eyes opened wide, his mind blank with need for him to keep touching him. He writhed up, his hips attempting to follow Obi-Wan’s rising hand. Obi-Wan smirked at him and stood up, walking away. Anakin groaned and went limp on the bed. It had felt so good, he’d been getting close. _Obi-Wan had just walked away._ Anakin felt nothing but an aching need, he was lost in the sensation. He felt so hot, his breathing was shaky, his heart was pounding.

“Better.” Obi-Wan kept pacing. “Much quieter.” Anakin whimpered at the sound of his mild voice. He sounded so gentle and caring, but he was making Anakin ache so badly. Obi-Wan began speaking lowly to the holocron again, “You’re right, I need to deal with Vos soon, but I’d prefer… Yes, I know his psychometry will become a problem… He could possibly be… Yes, alright, I know you don’t find that line of argument particularly convincing…” 

Anakin swallowed, closing his eyes. The feeling of being caught in a rising tide of pleasure had receded, but he was still so hard. He pulled on his restraints for the sensation, seeking any kind of touch, any kind of friction. He whined and shifted.

Obi-Wan was back. “You are so incredibly needy,” his voice was exasperated. “Why are you so impossibly impatient?”

“Master, it hurts, please, I want—” Anakin looked up, trying to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes, begging him for his touch. 

“I know,” Obi-Wan cut him off. “I’m perfectly aware, Padawan, thank you.” He sighed and reached down, opened Anakin’s pants, exposing just his hard cock. Anakin moaned loudly as the cool air touched him, and again when Obi-Wan’s fingers pulled him free. He writhed, and shuddered as Obi-Wan spat in his palm and began to stroke him hard, dragging him closer and closer, relieving Anakin’s ache with an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Obi-Wan twisted his wrist and squeezed the head of Anakin’s cock hard. Anakin moaned loudly, his hips involuntarily thrusting up, he was so close.

“Please, Master, yes, please, thank you,” Anakin begin to babble, moving his hips for more friction, pressing up, Obi-Wan’s hands were lightsaber-calloused and strong, it felt so good to have him touching Anakin exactly where he needed him to, fingers digging in under the base of the head, rubbing gently. 

Obi-Wan abruptly let go and walked away, again. Anakin gasped, and made a pained noise. “No! Please, Master, come back!” He looked around as best he could, pulling on his restraints. “Master, please…” He whined. 

“Quiet, Padawan.”

Anakin whimpered and shifted. His cock ached, the entire world had collapsed to how badly he needed to come, how badly he needed Obi-Wan to touch him. He pulled against his restraints again, looking over desperately to try to find Obi-Wan, to see what he was doing, to get him back. Anakin tried to listen, tried to interrupt, but words wouldn’t come. He just whined and slumped back, his hips still shifting, his cock jutting up, the tip shiny with Obi-Wan’s spit and his own precome. 

Obi-Wan was murmuring, “Talking to Dooku is too risky, though… I _know_ he’s the only lead… How do you propose?… I don’t particularly enjoy the concept of being captured, that…”

Anakin tried to stay quiet, tried to be as quiet as possible—he knew that the best way to get what he wanted was to give Obi-Wan what _he_ wanted. Anakin was shaky, light-headed, his breathing heavy, his pulse pounding and his cock ached. The belt on his wrists was tight, but not too tight, Obi-Wan had wrapped him well. He pulled again, trying to stay still, stay quiet.

“Very good,” Obi-Wan said as he paced by, looking down casually. “Just like that.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin murmured. He swallowed and closed his eyes. He tried to steady his breathing, tried to be good. Obi-Wan paced by several times, Anakin’s full attention was tracking the sound of his boots clicking sharply closer and further away, back and forth. 

The world was so quiet, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t think. He got lost in the sound of Obi-Wan’s movement, hypnotized, breathing in rhythm with it, trying to focus on anything except the incredible ache, the overwhelming _need_. 

“I like seeing you like this, Padawan,” Anakin’s eyes shot open. Obi-Wan had paused and was looking down at him. “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?” Anakin nodded vigorously, hips pushing up. Obi-Wan trailed his fingers lightly over Anakin’s cock and Anakin’s eyes fluttered shut. “You’re mine, you know that, right?” Anakin whined and nodded again. For years, all he wanted was a _hint_ that Obi-Wan had even a bit of attachment to him. He’d been so evasive, always disappearing and retreating. Now his fingers felt so good on Anakin’s cock, he was so, so close. 

“Thank you, _Master_ , yes, I know,” Anakin said, seeking his eyes. “I’m yours, I told you I was yours.”

“You did,” Obi-Wan said with a gentle smile. “I remember.” The smile slipped from his face. “I remember exactly _why_ you did.” Anakin felt a swell of dread and his hips jerked as Obi-Wan’s fingers left him. “That’s why you need to be tied up, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sounded regretful. “You’re reckless, disobedient, violent, and disloyal.” Anakin whimpered. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Master…”

“Quiet.” Obi-Wan said repressively. Anakin bit off his words and swallowed. He was shuddering with need to come, he was so close. “I will take care of you, but you don’t get to choose _when_ , Padawan.” He stepped back and Anakin whined. “You need a lesson in patience.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin panted. “I’m paying attention, Master.”

“You are.” Obi-Wan’s smile was back, a softness back in his eyes. “You’re doing well, Anakin—” Anakin nodded eagerly. “—Not good _enough_ , though, Padawan.”

Anakin’s voice was petulant. “Why?” Obi-Wan looked back over his shoulder, and laughed at a comment that Anakin couldn’t hear. “Master! What do I need to do? What am I doing wrong? I want to do better, Master, please?” 

When Anakin’s questions didn’t draw back Obi-Wan’s attention, Anakin closed his eyes and dropped his attention into the Force, focusing as best he could with his mind a hazy shaky mess, and projected his need as loud as he could. 

“ _Better_ involves not shouting in the Force, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s tone was conversational. “Do yourself a favor, and think things through.”

“Sorry, Master.” Anakin withdrew as far as he could, making himself small, holding himself contained. He tried to quiet his breathing, still his motions, become as quiet as possible. He tried to make it so Obi-Wan wouldn’t notice him at all.

“Much better,” Obi-Wan said, his voice rough. “Very, very good.” Anakin looked up hopefully. “That was a very impressive use of the Force, Anakin.”

“What did I do?” Anakin said, confused. “Master? What’s happening?” His arousal was so distracting, he had been so close to coming for so long and then Obi-Wan was talking to him, why wasn’t his hand back on his cock? “Please, Master?” He pulled on his restraints.

Anakin almost cried out in relief when he saw Obi-Wan approach with intent, and saw him slide off his boots, one and then the other. Two clunks on the floor. _Obi-Wan was finally paying attention to only him_. 

Obi-Wan smiled dangerously as he caught the thought, and he knelt on the end of the bed, crawling up Anakin’s body until he was holding himself above Anakin, not touching but hovering above so close they were sharing breath. Obi-Wan pressed his hips down and rubbed his own hard cock down against Anakin’s and smiled again as Anakin moaned loudly.

Obi-Wan looked deeply into his eyes and whispered, “You made yourself invisible with the Force, Anakin.” 

“What?” Anakin was so distracted by Obi-Wan’s sudden proximity, he was trying to understand what he was saying but was not following at all. The blue of Obi-Wan’s eyes was almost grey in this half-light. Anakin could see his Master’s pupils were blown. His body was warm above him, the pressure of their hips together was incredible. “Wh-what do you mean, Master?”

“That was a very powerful illusion.” Obi-Wan kissed him once, lightly on the lips and moved his head back, looking him in the eye again. “You made me see an empty bed.” He kissed him again, a little harder, and moved back again. They were both breathing hard. “The only way I could tell you hadn’t left was our bond.” He kissed him again, hard, and whispered against his lips. “No-one else would have been able to tell, Anakin. It was a perfect disguise.” 

“I didn’t mean to, Master,” Anakin pushed his head up and kissed him back, desperately. Obi-Wan took control of the kiss, pushing him back down, licking into his mouth. Anakin rocked his hips in response, rubbed his hard cock against Obi-Wan's, and broke the kiss with a moan. He begged, “Will you please fuck me, please, Master, or something, anything, I need, I am dying, please…”

“Yes, my needy little Padawan.” Obi-Wan huffed a laugh. “I am absolutely going to fuck you now.”

The words made Anakin gasp in relief, his eyes sliding shut, his legs falling further open slightly, making room for Obi-Wan to slide down between them. Obi-Wan kissed his neck, biting once before shaking his head and making a disappointed noise. Anakin whimpered back. Obi-Wan moved his mouth further down, shoving Anakin’s tunic aside, finding his collarbone, biting hard, sucking purple marks into his skin. 

Anakin wrapped his legs around Obi-Wan and said, “Please, Master, please, you were so mad earlier, I don’t like it when you’re mad, use me please to stop being mad, be mad at me, please, feel better, Master—”

Obi-Wan cut him off with a laugh. “I will fuck you hard, Anakin, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, _yes_ , please, Master, I would like that,” Anakin said nodding. 

“I know, Anakin,” Obi-Wan laughed again, ruefully. “I know how to make you come. I have had more practice than you can possibly imagine.” Anakin whined, pressing up with his hips. Obi-Wan had dreamed of _him_. Anakin was _important_. Anakin was _special_. Obi-Wan withdrew back to his knees, and began to undress them both. Anakin tugged on his restraints as Obi-Wan opened their tunics and pulled off their pants. “Very good, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said as he came back, “You’ve done well.”

Anakin whimpered and opened his legs further, and Obi-Wan took advantage of the motion, grasping the back of Anakin’s thighs and pushed them back, putting Anakin’s knees by his ears, exposing him completely at once. 

Anakin whined and pulled at his restraints when Obi-Wan looked him in the eyes and leaned down, licking him, preparing him to take his cock. Obi-Wan used his tongue to tease the entrance, sucking saliva and spreading it, getting it as wet as he could. He licked up to Anakin’s balls and sucked on them, making Anakin jerk hard and moan. Obi-Wan pulled his head back and pressed down harder on Anakin’s legs to keep him still. 

Anakin caught his eyes and said very quickly, “I’m trying to stay still, I am, I am trying Master, I’m sorry, please don’t stop, please…” 

Obi-Wan reassured him over the bond. _“I know, dear one.”_ Anakin felt a spike of desire, his hips jerked and he took a deep shaky breath. He was so flushed, he felt so hot. He had just barely stopped himself from coming—he’d almost orgasmed just from Obi-Wan’s kind voice in his head.

Obi-Wan smiled, understanding what had just happened and sent a sense of pride to Anakin through the bond for holding back. He abandoned holding back one leg and pushed two of his fingers deep into Anakin’s open mouth and said, “Make them wet, Padawan.” Anakin obediently closed his lips and made the fingers as wet as he could. Obi-Wan said, “Open,” and Anakin opened his mouth. 

Obi-Wan used the two fingers to swipe his mouth, collecting as much of Anakin’s spit as he could, and then moved the fingers down and pushed them roughly inside Anakin’s ass, pressing in hard through the muscle’s resistance. Anakin jerked at the sudden penetration, his back arching, arms pulling against the restraints. Obi-Wan’s fingers curled and pressed relentlessly, stroking hard against Anakin’s prostate, and Anakin moaned loudly, “ _Finally, finally, yes!_ ” as he abruptly came.

Anakin shuddered and whined, a wave of intense pleasure rolling back through his brain as his cock spilled come. It was as if a concussion missile had detonated in his mind, the fallout spreading throughout his body in tingling shivers of pleasure.  His eyes jerked open as Obi-Wan bent his head and swallowed the tip of his cock into his mouth, sucking and licking up his come. They looked at each other, the last of his come spilling directly onto Obi-Wan’s waiting tongue. 

The bond hummed with the rightness of the moment, the perfection and completion. There was a sense of necessity in the Force, Anakin wasn’t sure where it came from. Obi-Wan’s warm mouth felt incredible and Anakin looked down incredulously as Obi-Wan cleaned him up. Obi-Wan eventually moved his head back, licking his lips. 

For a long, suspended moment, their eye contact was strong and Obi-Wan queried with the Force through Anakin’s diffuse pleasure-soaked mind to check how he was doing. He smiled as Anakin hazily welcomed and thanked him, then suddenly slid his fingers hard into his ass again, making Anakin moan. Obi-Wan smiled and began fucking him harder and faster with his fingers.

Anakin sighed happily and let his hips fall open all the way, completely relaxing into the sensation, still curled up with his knee by his ear and the other leg slung loosely around Obi-Wan. He was happily letting Obi-Wan move his fingers in and out, stretching and preparing him. With only spit, it would be uncomfortable. The thought made him smile. Obi-Wan wanted him so much he didn’t want to stop for lube, and knew Anakin _would take it, could take it, and wanted it._

“I know, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, his smile wide and genuine now. Anakin’s eyes fixed on the secret dimples under his beard—the ones that only those with previous knowledge could spot with years of training. Anakin watched with pleasure as Obi-Wan grinned. “I truly do know, Anakin.” Obi-Wan leaned down and kissed him again, sucking his lip into his mouth. Anakin was floating, Obi-Wan was fingering him and kissing him, licking roughly into his mouth, tongue tangling, possessing, until he fucking Anakin there too. 

Obi-Wan removed his hand, used it to line up his cock and pressed the tip in without warning. Anakin moaned loudly, sucked on Obi-Wan's tongue, and projected, _“Oh, Master, yes, more, thank you!”_ The only thing that Anakin could feel was Obi-Wan’s thick cock, opening him up, pushing in relentlessly. Anakin broke the kiss as he gasped and looked up at Obi-Wan, disbelieving, as Obi-Wan smirked at him and then fucked in hard, taking him deeply. It hurt, it was too much, it was overwhelming, and Anakin’s eyes rolled back in his head in pleasure.

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and said, “Unbelievable,” and began to fuck him harder and harder as he adjusted, until he was holding him open and thrusting deep and fast. All of Obi-Wan’s frustration with the Council, with the Sith, with the war, with Anakin himself—it all was turned into Obi-Wan’s complete possession of Anakin’s body, using him hard as Anakin whined and murmured incomprehensible happy sounds. Obi-Wan murmured, “You take my cock so well, Padawan, so very, very well.” His hips slapped into Anakin, smiling at the sound, fingers in a bruising grip. 

Anakin relaxed, smiling a proud, silly grin at how well he took it all. Obi-Wan laughed at his intoxicated expression and kissed him again. Anakin projected all of his happiness into the bond, sharing it back with Obi-Wan, adjusting his body and rolling his hips to open himself up as much as he could, making himself as perfect as possible to take all of Obi-Wan’s cock. It was all _perfect_ , it felt incredible. 

Anakin whined as he yanked on the belt restricting his arms just to feel the pressure of being restrained, and Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. He moved back up to his knees and pulled Anakin down the bed, stretching him out, pulling his hips out using the different angle and slid in deliberately, fucking him hard. Anakin couldn’t move and couldn’t think, it felt so good.

Obi-Wan’s voice was rough, “Very good, darling, thank you, you’ve been very helpful, I needed this, thank you,” and at Anakin’s huge spike of pleasure that radiated out into the Force, Obi-Wan slammed his cock in one final time and came, his head dropping to curl into Anakin’s neck, breathing hard, trembling slightly with the force of his orgasm. 

Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin and held him tight and gave him a gentle kiss on the neck before slipping out. Anakin thought he could feel Obi-Wan’s come dripping down his leg, and shivered with pleasure. _He’d been so helpful_.

Obi-Wan slid off, and reached for an undershirt, silently cleaning up Anakin and then himself. The bond was so strong, the atmosphere of the cabin was so charged with everything they’d done and everything they were to each other.   


Obi-Wan reached up and undid the binding of Anakin’s belt, gently unwrapping him. He winced apologetically at the marks that had appeared on Anakin’s wrists, glancing at his face. Anakin said, “Thank you, Master,” and Obi-Wan sighed and let him go, brushing the hair back off Anakin’s forehead. 

His tone was suddenly businesslike, as if his orgasm had cleared his mind, refreshed his memory. “Master Yoda wants to give you a Padawan, Padawan.”

“What?” Anakin was nowhere near coherent enough to have a conversation that included the word ‘Yoda.’

“Never mind, dearest, we’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Obi-Wan said, his eyes full of affection and humor. “Go to the ‘fresher and go to bed. You need sleep, you really must rest.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin smiled. “Of course, Master.”

Everything was back to normal. Obi-Wan seemed balanced again, his Force presence was calm. Anakin had a sense that he had done his job, what he was born to do.

It felt good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kriff.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting and GETTING IT. My god you guys are just the best.
> 
> ~~Edited to fix the name of Anakin's ship why are there so many ships oh my god why Star Wars why~~


	7. Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah! It's a new chapter! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and for your comments and support! <3

CHRISTOPHSIS

Late 22BBY

_Obi-Wan was standing alone in a large natural cave of reddish brown rock. It had been extended back into the hill to create a large nave of some kind of church, which was ornately carved into the stone. There were shafts of light coming in from the setting sun behind him. It was beautiful._

_Everything around him was hushed and perfectly still except for occasional whispers too low to understand, and Obi-Wan had felt like an intruder in a truly sacred place. The air in the cave had been extremely dry but he could hear water trickling, which was strange._

_At the far back of the heavily sculpted cavern, he’d seen a series of rising steps leading to a wide altar made of a glossy black stone that Obi-Wan hadn’t recognized. It stood out oddly among the native rock._

_He did a double take. A beam of light had caught on a large silver knife that had been buried blade down in the altar. Obi-Wan hadn’t understood how the metal had been strong enough to penetrate the rock, let alone why it had been done._

_It looked like the blade had been somehow filigreed to be covered in the twisting form of a language he couldn’t read. He began to move closer and…_

Obi-Wan woke up, and frowned.

He’d never had that particular dream before. It was one of the least _eventful_ dreams that he’d ever remembered. Nothing had happened. It felt like his future, but it also felt somehow more significant than that. There was not very much information to be gleaned, just the memory of the cave, sunset, black altar, silver knife. The whisper… _Sitharis?_

Obi-Wan sighed and rolled out of bed. He knew well that there was no point dwelling on the future. Anakin was off scouting with Rex, and hopefully they should be back soon. He needed to focus on _now_. He slid on his boots, fastened his belt, attached his lightsaber and comlink. He smoothed a hand through his recently shorn hair and beard, and was ready to go.

He headed over to the command center first. Cody was already there, of course, looking over a holomap of the capital city. They’d been trying to free Christophsis from a Separatist siege for weeks now. First, they’d broken the blockade, now they needed to clean up the planet.

It seemed like all they were doing was making a mess. He looked at the holo’s representation of the wreckage of several massive crystalline skyscrapers that had come down during the Separatist bombing runs—so many civilians had died there before the city was successfully evacuated. The city infrastructure was a disaster, would only get worse, and would be terrible for a long time after they left.

It did not feel good.

“Sitrep, Cody?” Obi-Wan asked.

“All quiet, General.” Cody was looking him over, likely wondering if he’d slept. Obi-Wan nodded and Cody nodded back slightly, satisfied. “There’s no sign of any deviation from their normal activity.”

“Good, that’s good.” Obi-Wan said, switching to a different view on the holomap. They’d been planning an ambush on the Separatists’ routine troop movements through the occupied areas of the city. Obi-Wan crossed his arms and said, “I’d prefer it if they walked into our trap blind, but truthfully I’m concerned. They’ve been predicting our moves very well.”

“They have, General.” Cody agreed, and pressed his lips together. Obi-Wan always appreciated seeing his bare face, even if it was still a mask of frustration. Cody sighed and said, “We’re going to have evac waiting for when this goes sideways.”

“Thank you, Cody,” Obi-Wan said, and raised his eyebrows at a cup of tea that was set in front of him. “And _thank you_ , Slick.”

“No problem, sir.” Slick smiled. “No problem at all.”

—

Anakin did not enjoy watching droids surround his Master with blaster fire.

He definitely did not appreciate watching it happen without being there to help. He was trapped in another skyscraper on the other side of the main road, looking across through the floor-to-ceiling transparisteel windows and seeing flashes of blaster bolts—not acceptable. “Master, what's going on?”

“We're cut off.” The sound of Obi-Wan’s voice coming back on the comlink was a relief. “The droids are onto us.” That was definitely _not_.

_How do they always know?_ Anakin made a decision. “Gunship, come in. Hawk, we need an evac in the south tower.”

“Roger that, sir. We're coming.”

Rex sounded both confused and wary. “South tower? We're in the north.”

“Not for long.” Anakin cocked an eyebrow and tipped his head. Rex sighed and nodded. Anakin turned back to the window, ignited his lightsaber and slashed twice before kicking out the transparisteel. The wind at their height was surprisingly strong. “Rex, fire your cables.”

“Yes, sir!” 

The droids were not allowed to surround and shoot down his Master. That was simply an unacceptable outcome of the day. He would not allow that to happen. Their ambush was blown, _somehow_ , and it was time to get his Master out. Alive.

Anakin grabbed an extra blaster and hooked it over the thick cable, keeping one hand on his ignited lightsaber. He jumped out of the window and began to slide—troopers jumped around him and held on desperately to their blasters with both hands. They slid as a squadron precipitously from skyscraper to skyscraper, hands slowly shaking numb with the vibration.

The droids started firing, and they began to dodge blaster bolts. The wind was too strong. Micky got hit and went down, and Anakin felt him die.

Anakin smashed furious through the opposite window, his men swarming around him, and they began to save the day.

_Again_.

—

Night was falling, and it was growing dark. Obi-Wan accelerated his speeder bike. Their plan to infiltrate Separatist headquarters and discover how the enemy was getting so much of their intel wasn’t so much of a plan as a loose directive. An _Anakin-style_ plan.

Obi-Wan didn’t know how they were going to find out what they needed to know, but by now he trusted the Force to lead him to the answer.

“We appear to have picked up some friends.” Anakin’s tone was sardonic. Obi-Wan appreciated the understatement. There were thousands and thousands of droids, lurking in every imaginable position. It was not a surprise. He hoped that Cody and Rex could do a thorough sweep of the base for bugs.

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan called back. He accelerated and Anakin kept pace. “I believe the number of eyes watching us has been steadily growing.”

“Great!” Anakin looked over at him, frustrated. He yelled, “Perhaps this means they’ve _somehow_ learned our plans.” Obi-Wan swerved a little closer so he could hear him over the sound of his engine.

“Perhaps it does.” Obi-Wan agreed amicably.

Anakin glowered. “Which means this is a trap, Master.”

Obi-Wan smiled at him before returning his eyes to the road. “I imagine it is. You know our policy on traps, Padawan.”

“I guess the trap is unfortunate...” Anakin smirked. “...for _them_.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and accelerated to maximum speed. He wanted to get this finished. They were obviously being allowed to enter the enemy Headquarters unopposed, so enter the Headquarters they would.

They finally arrived, the silence and inaction from so many lurking droids was making Obi-Wan feel incredibly twitchy. “So, this is the belly of the beast,” he said disparagingly when he walked into an empty room. He did admire the native blue crystalline building materials. It was very beautiful. Pity the Separatists had occupied it.

He looked up sharply when the Force trembled.

Anakin moved forward quickly, “Master, I sense—”

“I sense it too,” Obi-Wan cut him off. A black cloaked figure moved out of the shadows and Anakin blanched.

“No!” Lightsaber slapped into Anakin’s palm, ignited in an instant. “I killed you on Yavin.”

“Obviously not, Padawan,” Obi-Wan snarked back. The black cloak was seductively rolled back off shoulders and dropped to the floor. He raised an eyebrow at the woman’s tight clothing and leering smile. “Here I thought this mission would be unpleasant.”

“Master—” Anakin said in exasperation and Obi-Wan cut him off.

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He dipped his head in a courtly manner as he unclipped his lightsaber but did not ignite it. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I inquire as to _your_ name?” Anakin grumbled beside him, lightsaber in hand, buzzing and blue.

“You may inquire.” Her voice was raspy and low. She grasped her blades and ignited them, the red glow making Obi-Wan’s stomach clench and breathing accelerate. “My name is Ventress, and I’ve lured you here to your doom.”

“Charmed to meet you, my dear.” Obi-Wan said back. Anakin complained loudly next to him and Obi-Wan sent him a wave of “ _Quiet”_ through the bond. Anakin closed his mouth, gave him a sullen look, and then abruptly charged forward and attacked.

Obi-Wan sighed, ignited his lightsaber, and shouted through the bond. _“Not helpful, Padawan, I want to learn things from her!”_

“I don’t care, she killed Eagleyes!”

“Who?” Ventress asked lazily, easily parrying Anakin’s forceful blows. “Was he important to you? I’m almost _sorry_.” She spun and kicked Anakin back, flipping to the follow and nearly taking off his head. Obi-Wan couldn’t have that. She’d already almost taken out an eye.

Obi-Wan called over, “May I ask the name of your Master?” Ventress looked sharply back at him, and Anakin scrambled away. _Good_. Obi-Wan tried to look politely inquisitive, wrist spinning his blade absently before coming up into his Soresu guard, two fingers pointing. “Dooku, I presume?”

Ventress rolled her eyes. “Obviously, pet.” She charged him, a dizzying whirl of long limbs and red blades approaching very quickly. Obi-Wan relaxed and let the Force guide his movements, a lifetime of muscle memory blocking blows at a pace too quick for conscious thought.

Ventress smiled savagely as she attacked, augmenting her strikes with the strength of the dark side. She made a series of low blows before flicking her blade up and around, a beautiful and lethal combination that Obi-Wan repelled with finesse, and she frowned.

Obi-Wan’s impenetrable Soresu defense was holding strong against her strange form of jar’kai Makashi. Obi-Wan had never seen anyone fight exactly like her before. It was a challenge to keep up, but the Force did not fail him. Anakin jumped back into the fight, attacking her from behind, splitting her attention.

“Does Dooku have any other names?” Obi-Wan asked, starting to breathe a little harder. “Darth Something, perhaps?” He pushed her back towards Anakin in their usual teamwork, but she flipped over to the stairs and darted away, laughing, leaving Obi-Wan’s question unanswered.

“She does that.” Anakin grumbled as they hastened up the stairs after her. “She never holds her ground.”

“Charming,” Obi-Wan grimaced. “I don’t think she’s a Sith. She doesn’t feel like a true Sith in the Force.”

“Really?” Anakin asked as they followed her upstairs. They were both breathing hard. “But the red blades?”

“Anybody can pick up a lightsaber and swing it, Padawan.” Obi-Wan retorted, catching his breath. They ran out of the stairwell into a spacious penthouse ballroom, looking around for where she’d disappeared to now. “She even could have bled them herself, you don’t need to be a Sith to do that—just _psychotic_.”

“Quite rude, my dear Obi-Wan.” Ventress dropped from the ceiling, her two crimson blades swinging down hard from above, and Obi-Wan pushed her back. She grinned ferociously and began to duel him in earnest. Obi-Wan moved quickly, rejecting blow after blow, dancing a furious defense against her elegant and ruthless style.

Anakin attacked too, but Ventress parried his blow and pushed him back with the Force into the wall, hard enough to cause a cracking sound. Obi-Wan felt a spike of anger and swung hard. Ventress spun and barely blocked his attempted decapitation. They locked blades and she pressed body-to-body for a moment. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

Ventress winked at him flirtatiously and then Force-pushed him, moving immediately onto the offensive again, backing him into a corner. Obi-Wan dodged and blocked, occasionally attempting a return attack that was repelled. He smiled winningly at her and said, “You’ve been trained _rather_ well.”

Anakin attacked suddenly from the side, splitting her focus. He shot a quick glare at Obi-Wan before growling, “You will pay for what you’ve done, _witch_.”

“I don’t think so,” Ventress said huskily as she dodged under Anakin’s arm, denying him momentum and catching him off balance. Anakin was graceful too, though, and turned cleanly for an attack. Their lightsabers clashed in a furious exchange before Ventress flipped back and away from him. Anakin snarled, twisting his blade in an unnecessary flourish in frustration as she got away.

Anakin’s anger was beginning to show in his fighting, his aggression was making him strike harder and move faster, but thoughtlessly and recklessly. Obi-Wan took a shaky breath, his own heart pounding, his own anger was beginning to grow as it resonated in harmony with Anakin’s anger, darkness rising in him too. He tracked Ventress as she moved smoothly away from Anakin, one step away, taunting him.

Obi-Wan focused hard on steadying his breathing and asked again, “Does your Master have a name that begins with Darth _?”_ She raised an eyebrow and ignored him, continuing to playfully evade Anakin, attempting to lure him off balance again. Obi-Wan moved quickly to catch her and engage her on the offensive, attempting to drive Ventress back into Anakin’s reach.

Obi-Wan gave her his best roguish grin and asked, “Do you know where Darth Sidious is hiding?” Ventress’s eyes widened, and her rhythm was interrupted—Obi-Wan felt very satisfied as he hooked one of her blades out of her hand and then kicked her hard over to Anakin.

Anakin smirked and attacked fiercely, putting Ventress on the defensive. Without two blades, she was much more vulnerable, and Anakin’s anger drove him to strike aggressively, his blade moving at unnatural speed. Obi-Wan felt the ripples of his rage in the Force, the air started to crackle with energy as he pressed her hard.

Obi-Wan joined, pushing her back toward the windows. They appeared to have an advantage. He quickly decided that Dooku’s attack dog would be unlikely to know where Sidious really was, and returned to his refrain.

“What’s your Master’s name, Ventress?” Obi-Wan asked, heart pounding. It occurred to him that he was extremely close to finally _finding something out_.

Ventress sneered at him, ignored him again, kept desperately fighting on—anger spiked in him again, she was keeping the _truth_ locked up inside her head, it was all _right there_ , he could _know_ —and suddenly he’d had enough of waiting, enough of playing around. Was Dooku a named Sith? Obi-Wan needed to know, _now_.

For the first time, Obi-Wan grabbed for the dark intentionally. He summoned the energy of his frustration, felt an unexpected boost of power from the ambient force of Anakin’s wrath, and pushed a little too hard with a suggestion. He tried aggressively to break her mental defenses—to make her obey. He _needed_ to know.

“Darth _What,_ Ventress? _Tell me._ ”

Ventress’s blade faltered for a moment, her mouth opening to say, “Ty—” before she slammed it shut and glared at him with savage fierceness. Her next few strikes were fast and furious, her face a mask of frustrated loathing.

She unexpectedly reached her empty hand out and called back her second blade from across the room with the Force, turning it on midway, dragging a long burning line through the floor. The brittle blue crystal shattered beneath Obi-Wan and Anakin as she jumped nimbly away.

Obi-Wan hit the floor below hard on his back, landing on crystalline shards of varying sizes. It hurt quite a lot. He blinked, adjusted to his new position, and then stood up quickly. Anakin was immediately at his shoulder. Their lightsabers were humming, the blue light making the walls glow. Obi-Wan glared up at Ventress.

Anakin’s anger was fully bleeding over into him now, the bond had become a pool of feeling between them, surrounding and encompassing them both. He tried to pull back from the bond but didn’t have the focus to hold his anger contained.

_Dooku was a named Sith_.

Obi-Wan felt the dark side calling—his powers seemed to be waking up, emotional energy was creeping and curling around him now, as if it were hiding in the corners of his vision, waiting, ready and available to be pulled on. He clenched his jaw and steadied his breathing. He would not _fall_ to the dark side for something as trivial as this. 

Ventress frowned down from the high ground, and Obi-Wan could feel her frustration bubbling in the Force, but suddenly her comlink chimed and her posture changed dramatically. Her confidence returned and she grinned—a menacing, knowing leer that Obi-Wan disliked immensely—and said, “And now you’ve both served your purpose.”

Anakin groaned and looked at Obi-Wan, “We have to get back.” The anger in his voice was now touched with fear. “Now.”

“It’s already too late,” Ventress gloated. “So hard to know whom to trust these days, isn’t it.”

Obi-Wan thought that through quickly and did not like the implications. At all.

Anakin bounced on his feet, twirled his lightsaber, and asked, “What's the plan, Master?” His voice was coiling with his frustrated aggression, and Obi-Wan appreciated that Anakin was still letting him take the lead. Obi-Wan hastily evaluated the odds and decided on trying to capture or kill. He knew that he could defeat her together with Anakin’s help. _They could do this._

“It was a mistake to bring us here, my sweet,—” Anakin shot him another incredulous, displeased look and Obi-Wan pressed his plan at him through the Force. Anakin nodded and they both readied to jump as Obi-Wan informed her regretfully, “—You’ve overestimated your abilities.”

“Really?” Ventress said, annoyed. She abruptly turned and ran away, slashing her way out through the window. Obi-Wan and Anakin Force-jumped up after her and ran to the hole in the transparisteel she’d left behind. Obi-Wan stopped short and Anakin ran into his back.

“Come and get me, boys!” Ventress stood proudly on top of the massive head of a droid. It looked to Obi-Wan like an malignant, metal octopus clinging to the side of the building. Her arms were raised, and she gestured around grandly.

Obi-Wan looked out past her, surveying the sea of Separatist reinforcements: the ground was covered with every imaginable kind of monstrous, spidery, city-leveling killing machines, marching in formation. He looked up to the sky at all of the landing craft filled to the brim with more battle droids. He swallowed, and kept his voice level. “You didn't tell us you were bringing friends.”

She pretended to pout. “Poor Obi-Wan, You've been betrayed—” Her voice grew more menacing, “—and now we're about to take control of this world.”

Obi-Wan took a steadying breath, and jumped out of the window. Anakin followed immediately. They had to find a ride, get back, _check on the men_ , see if the base was secure.

Ventress would have to wait. Besides, she’d been ever so helpful. 

—

The moment that Cody had been dreading ever since the General left the base was the moment he returned. Cody knew that they would have no good news to report, but he’d never expected anything this bad.

“Slick? It was you?”

General Kenobi sounded deeply betrayed. Cody crossed his arms and looked hard at the floor. _He still couldn’t believe this was happening._

Rex pushed Slick forward towards the Generals slightly and said, “He gave us a bit of a chase, sir.” It was a frustrated apology. Cody swallowed down a surge of anger. He had to remain calm. Their security had become compromised. They didn’t have time for dramatics.

Cody looked up at the sound of Skywalker’s huff of disapproval, making unintentional eye contact with Kenobi. The General’s face was blank, and Cody looked away first. Skywalker focused intently on Slick, his glower deepening, his question a demand: “How could you do this to your brothers?”

“Only a _Jetii_ would ask that,” Slick scoffed back. Cody clenched his jaw. He knew what was coming. “It's the _Jetiise_ who keep the _Vode_ enslaved!” Both Generals stiffened. Slick continued, fervent, “We do your bidding! We serve at your whim! I just wanted something more! I—”

Rex cut across him hard. “—And all you had to do to get it was put the rest of us all at risk.”

Slick continued, “I love my brothers—” and Skywalker stepped forward slightly. Kenobi reached back a hand, holding him back, and looked meaningfully over at Cody. Cody nodded, signaled to two troopers and ordered, “Take him to lock-up.” Rex roughly handed Slick over and Cody stood to the side to let them pass.

The corridor was very quiet when they’d gone.

Cody felt numb. He couldn’t believe the scale of what just happened, how much equipment had been destroyed, how large the enemy reinforcements were—Slick, a brother, _they’d been sold out by a brother…_

“One of my least favorite phenomena is when people do the wrong thing for the right reason.” Kenobi said, vaguely. He moved his hand from holding Skywalker back to rubbing the blue grime from his beard. Cody noticed for the first time that both of them were covered in the distinctive blue dust that came from shattered crystal, and that there was a smudge of blood on his General neck. “It’s like with Dooku.”

“What?” Skywalker laughed incredulously, his face was still flushed red. “How?”

“Dooku’s not wrong about the Republic,” Kenobi said, glancing at Cody as he always did before saying anything even remotely seditious, as if Cody were going to report him. He was not. “He just shouldn’t have become _an actual Sith_ about it. Slick’s _not wrong_ about the ethics of all of this.”

“He sure did the wrong thing about it!” Skywalker said, emphatically. “Slick got his brothers killed. Why would he do that?”

Cody was glad to hear a question he could answer. “Slick said that a woman with the Separatists offered him freedom and that it was something I’d never understand, sir.”

“Did he?” Kenobi’s tone was friendly and Skywalker suddenly looked nervous. “Did he say that?” Cody felt an unusual urge to back away.

“Yes, sir.” Cody said. He straightened his posture and said, “Should we take inventory and prepare for attack, sir?”

“Yes, Cody, thank you,” Kenobi said, nodding gratefully, voice returning to his normal tone. “Keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir!” Cody saluted, looked meaningfully at Rex and together they got away as fast as they possibly could. There was really not much to be said, and Rex was quiet.

They both headed back to the command center on autopilot. Cody thought as they walked silently down the corridor: _Slick should have just talked to me. He should have talked to the General—either Kenobi or Skywalker. They were different from the other Jetiise, they would have_ understood _._

Now Cody was facing an invasion force with no weapons. This would not be easy. He reflected to himself what the General wanted done first, and said to a still-silent Rex, “Kenobi actually wants us to talk to the men now, before rumors have a chance to grow out of control.” Cody tapped out an assembly order and Rex nodded. They both changed direction towards the mess.

“How does that work?” Rex asked. “You just know?”

Cody considered. “No, I have to ask myself the question first. Knowing the answer to his preferences doesn’t make me do anything. I could ignore it if I thought I should.” He shrugged. “I don’t, though, because our priorities are always the same.” He’d long ago stopped worrying about it.

“I wish I knew what General Skywalker preferred,” Rex said ruefully. “I’d appreciate some warning for what’s going to explode next.” Cody laughed once and shook his head.

A group of troopers hurried by, hustling to beat them to the mess. Cody smiled slightly. He was quiet until the corridor was clear again and then quietly asked Rex, “Have you tried?” He was curious. He’d never asked anyone outside of the other staff officers of the 212th about this before. “Ask yourself whether General Skywalker thinks you should be doing inventory or talking to the men.”

Rex was quiet for a long moment. “You know what’s funny?” His voice no longer had humor in it. “I seem to know that Kenobi wants more recon.”

“What?” Cody couldn’t believe it. “Not Skywalker?”

“No,” Rex said, sounding disappointed. “I guess Kenobi’s the C.O., even Skywalker follows his orders.” Cody looked over and Rex corrected himself, “Most of the time.”

“That’s true,” Cody was unconvinced. “Kenobi’s also more strange with the mind stuff than Skywalker is. Skywalker seems better at blowing things up.”

“He’s very good at that.” Rex nodded sagely. “Yes.”

They paused for a moment outside the mess doors before entering together. Cody was truly, deeply not looking forward to giving the following briefing. The news about the weapons and the walkers was bad. The news about Slick was devastating.

The room was very full, and bristling with nervous energy. As Cody entered, the men snapped to attention. He moved to the head of the room and faced them, standing tall and speaking plainly.

“As I am sure you are all aware, Sergeant CT-4377, named Slick, has been taken to lock-up. Slick sabotaged the base, destroying the landing pad, weapon store, and walkers. At least three troopers were caught in the explosions, but no fatalities have been reported.” The extent of the damage made everyone cringe. Cody swallowed and pushed on.

“Slick has been passing intel to the Seppies in exchange for money and _freedom_. His espionage was responsible for today’s failed ambush, which killed five of our brothers.” The discipline in the room broke slightly as the men reacted to the magnitude of the betrayal in various small ways. Cody knew how hard the information would hit. _A brother…_

He squared up and continued forcefully, “Slick endangered all of us because he resented the _Jetiise_.” An element of uncertainty hung in the air, so he clarified, “He called General Kenobi and General Skywalker slavers to their faces.”

The room went very still.

“General Kenobi claims Slick did the wrong things for the right reasons.” Several people huffed a laugh, a few murmured _‘of-course-he-did’_. Cody continued over the top, gaining volume, “I will not debate slavery while the clankers are at our door! We are soldiers, we follow orders, and we protect our General!” The room was quiet again. “Understood?”

The room resounded with an emphatic, “Yes, sir!”

“We’re about to have a really bad time.” He acknowledged. “But we’ve still got the heavy cannon and _there is resupply coming_ ,” Cody said repressively. “We’ll make do, troopers. We always have. We always will. Watch for your updated orders. Dismissed.”

The room erupted into babble and organized chaos as some returned immediately to duties while others lingered to talk. Rex took a squad and went out for recon, and Cody stayed behind for a moment, keeping an eye on the emptying mess. His presence would stop arguments, and he would not allow conflict between troopers while the Separatists were massing on the other side of the city.

Cody pulled out his data pad and began collating inventory reports as they streamed in, listening to sample the trooper morale. Most were in shock, discussing the weapons supply or the size of the reinforcements, and he tuned most of that out. Some were talking about Slick and the espionage, mostly just hurt incredulity. That was not incendiary. He was listening for the word _Jetiise._

He heard Waxer ask loudly, “…Why would Slick take it out on the General? We all know Kenobi understands.” There was a murmur of agreement. “No Seppie was ever going to give us freedom, but we all know the General’s trying.” A louder murmur. “Kenobi is on our side, I heard him talking to Cody about land.” A very loud murmur.

“The General’s not like the others, though,” Boil’s voice cut through the babble, a little quieter than Waxer’s. He clarified hastily, looking over at Cody. Cody sighed. _They all did that._ “Some of them are alright. I’ve heard Wolffe thinks very highly of General Plo Koon.” There was a murmur of agreement about General Plo before the group became quiet again.

“Slick still should have talked to us, even if he didn’t want to talk to _Jetiise._ ” Wooley said, resentfully. “I can’t believe it.”

“I hope he’s enjoying all his _freedom_ in the brig.” The voice was menacing. Cody didn’t see who said that. A very loud murmur followed this, before coms started beeping with updated orders and the small groups dispersed.

Cody headed back to the command center. He wondered what Slick meant by freedom. Freedom to do what? Freedom from what? How many brothers were going to die tomorrow because of Slick’s desire for _freedom?_

It didn’t matter now. It was time to get to work.

—

Obi-Wan was sitting cross legged on the floor when Anakin found him, but he was looking at his data pad instead of meditating. He looked up at Anakin closing the bedroom door quietly behind him, a question in his eyes.

“Well,” Anakin said heavily, “Slick completely destroyed the landing pad, the walkers, and the weapon supply depot.”

“Did anything survive at all?” Obi-Wan sounded resigned to a negative.

“We’ve still got the heavy cannon.” Anakin shrugged, plopping down on the bed. Obi-Wan frowned up at him for getting blue dust on the blanket. Anakin rolled his eyes and got up to change his clothes. “We’ll be able to hold them back—”

“Unless they’ve got a shield.” Obi-Wan interjected.

“—unless they’ve got a shield.” Anakin sighed, exhausted. He reached for some of Obi-Wan’s sleepwear and began to change. “Yeah.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan mused, an eyebrow raised as he watched the show, “I’ve sent Yularen back to Republic space, but the round trip on a fast resupply run is still a dangerously long window.” He sighed and straightened his legs, wincing slightly before standing up. “He’ll probably have a fresh blockade to break when he comes back, too.”

Anakin nodded, shaking off his pants, blue dust puffing out in a cloud. “Do you think he’ll bring my Padawan?”

“Probably,” Obi-Wan said, and he began to change for sleep too. “Yoda made the arrival seem imminent before we lost contact. No other details, but he seems to have already made a choice.”

“It’s weird being assigned one, right?” Anakin asked, tossing him a shirt. “Masters usually choose.”

“Yes, this war is muddying things up in a lot of ways.” Obi-Wan smiled. “Though if you asked Master Qui-Gon, I’m sure he’d say that Yoda’s requests have always been the equivalent of an assignment.” He frowned and picked at shards of blue crystal embedded in the leather of his belt.

“What?” Anakin laughed incredulously and Obi-Wan looked up. Obi-Wan never talked about his past. “Yoda assigned you to Master Qui-Gon?”

“Something like that.” The humor had mostly slid off Obi-Wan’s face. “Please be kind to your Padawan when they arrive. They didn’t have a say in this.”

“What?” Anakin said again, more seriously. He was both slightly offended and alarmed at the implication. “What did Qui-Gon do?”

“Nothing!” Obi-Wan said quickly. “He was fine. It worked out fine. You’ll be fine. Regardless.” He pushed past the topic, to Anakin’s displeasure. “The rest of the Council no longer has the ability to legitimately interrogate me about your adherence to the Code or hold me responsible as proxy for your perceived transgressions.” Anakin frowned to hear that they’d done either of those things. Obi-Wan continued, “They will not feel any compunction about shifting that burden to your Padawan, whether they deserve it or not.”

Anakin sensed they were still at least partly talking about Qui-Gon, but didn’t push it. “I already agreed that I’d teach the standard curriculum.”

“That is very important,” Obi-Wan nodded. “A child is an excellent unwitting spy, especially when they still do have to turn in homework. They’ll scrutinize every word for heretical teachings, and will be trying to catch you going awry. I cannot think of another reason to assign a Padawan to a twenty-year-old. It will be a test for you in some way.”

“Fantastic.” Anakin said, collapsing onto the bed. “Can’t wait to be responsible for a youngling.” He made room in the narrow bed as Obi-Wan lay down next to him shoulder pressed against shoulder, both exhausted, and they both stared at the ceiling. “You’ll help me, right, Master?” His voice was small.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said. “Of course I will help. Someone has to teach the poor thing how to meditate.” Anakin laughed and then grew more serious.

“I can’t believe Slick sold us out,” Anakin said quietly, “and I can’t believe the size of the force that Dooku sent here. It’s massive. What if they do have a shield?”

“I don’t know, Padawan. Hopefully we can get reinforcements and resupply in time.” Obi-Wan sighed and spoke, his voice sounding off. “Today has been just a series of increasingly awful revelations.”

“How so?” Anakin asked, turning on to his side, facing Obi-Wan. He felt for him in the Force, tried to initiate the bond. It was unusually easy for him to slide into his mind, easier than it had ever been. That was strange. Obi-Wan was angry and afraid. That was even stranger. “What do you mean?”

“Well, other than that small issue with a clone with indoctrinated loyalty managing to betray the Republic,” Obi-Wan frowned, “and discovering the anti-Jedi sentiment in the clones is growing, the fact that we discovered that Count Dooku ordered the clones in the first place is what really made my day.”

“Wait…” Anakin’s mind was blank. He studied Obi-Wan’s profile. “What? How do we know that?”

Obi-Wan looked over at him and smiled wolfishly, and Anakin swallowed. “Our good friend Ventress let it slip.” When Anakin looked confused, Obi-Wan said, “Darth Ty-?” Anakin nodded. “When I met Jango Fett on Kamino he told me that he’d been hired by a man of the name Tyranus. Fett led me straight from Kamino to Dooku, I just didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle at the time.” He made a face. “In retrospect, Sifo Dyas was also a good friend of Dooku’s before he left the order. I should have made the connection, but I did not.”

“So the Sith ordered the clones,” Anakin said slowly.

“Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Obi-Wan said. “A Sith Empire is always built on slavery.”

“A _what?”_ Anakin felt his eyes widen. “Master, what are you talking about?”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. “I suspect that what’s really happening is the Sith Master is using the war to clear the board.” Anakin frowned and Obi-Wan continued. “They’re eliminating all other major players by inciting conflict between them. The allied business interests versus the allied democratic and bureaucratic interests. Once they’re all dead or enfeebled, the Sith will have a clear playing field to gain power.”

Anakin felt sick. “We’re helping?”

“We weren’t given a choice, remember?” Obi-Wan didn’t look too upset. “Anakin, we have to let them do it.”

“What?” Anakin felt cornered. “I thought you wanted to end the war.”

“I do.” Obi-Wan nodded. “I will do everything in my power to end it as fast as I can, Padawan, but much is outside my control. We’re going to do what we can with what we have, but beyond that—we are going to have to let it happen or we will go insane and start making serious mistakes.”

“So, what, we’re letting the Sith take over?” Anakin asked.

“I don’t think you appreciate how little we can do to stop things already in motion, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said. “You have to come to terms with the war. It took me a bit, I’ll admit, but Padawan—the entire establishment of the galaxy has grown so corrupt and stagnant. You’ve seen it. We’ve both seen it. This war will end with many of them dead or out of power. I just can’t find it in myself to be terribly upset about that.”

“What about all the destruction, the innocent people dying?”

Obi-Wan sighed and looked back at the ceiling. “I will try with every breath I take to save lives, Padawan, you know that.” Anakin nodded. Obi-Wan’s voice grew quieter. “I’m not omnipotent, Anakin. I can’t stop more than I can stop. What matters more is what happens _after_ the war.”

“After?” Anakin could barely imagine it.

“The Sith Empire will presumably not have equitable reconstruction programs.” Anakin huffed a laugh at the mental image of Ventress cleaning up rubble. Obi-Wan caught the image in the bond and laughed too. “We can’t stop the war, Anakin.” Obi-Wan swallowed. “I believe we _can_ stop the Sith from creating a true Sith Empire.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan looked evasive for a moment and then seemed to make a decision, making strong eye contact and saying, “Do you know why everyone remembers Darth Solon as a Jedi?” Anakin shook his head. 

Obi-Wan said, “Solon was elected, you know. He was just the Consul—” Anakin frowned and Obi-Wan corrected “—just the leader of the Senate at first. The history books say that their Senate foisted honor upon honor on him, despite his protests, but ultimately called him the First Among Equals and gave him a lifetime term of office. It looked to contemporaries as if their Republic was otherwise intact from the outside.”

“Not from the inside?”

“No, inside Solon had consolidated all power in the executive using the power of his legions and made all other participants in government either ornamental or subservient. It was an Empire. It took a generation before the people adjusted, but he controlled the schools, the media. All of it. He refounded the Jedi Order on Remule after it had been almost annihilated on the planet. There was nobody left to say he _wasn’t_ a Jedi and he discredited anyone who asked questions. Solon sold the story, and the story was what lasted.”

“… and the people didn’t know all that was happening,” Anakin said slowly. “They thought everything was the same.”

“Exactly. Jedi are Jedi and Senators are Senators. What’s it matter to you if you just sell speeders on Corellia? Just keep taxes low and secure the food supply. It mattered very little to people outside the capital cities.”

Anakin just didn’t understand how the government would fall to the Sith and nobody would care. “What about all the people who complained?”

“Why would ordinary people complain about the end of a hundred years of civil war? They were so desperate for peace that they would have put up with just about anything, and Solon made it completely palatable for them. The economy of the Remulans flourished, and a small middle class developed. Remember, Anakin, _the board had been cleared_. Everyone who would have complained was dead.”

“Great.” Anakin said. There was a long pause, so he prompted, “So what, Master? I don’t understand.”

“The Council has failed. The Republic has already fallen. We can’t let the Sith come in to fill the vacuum, so we have to make sure there is no vacuum for them to fill.” Obi-Wan said quietly. He whispered, “We might have to be the ones writing history, Padawan, it might have to be us."

“You mean…” Anakin trailed off.

“We could do what he did.” Obi-Wan sighed. “It’s just a fantasy of mine, I guess. I feel so powerless all the time, even on the Council… I don’t have control. I just like to think about what I would do better, how I would fix things. It’s just a fantasy.”

Anakin was quiet for a long moment. “Who else is there, Master?” Obi-Wan waited for him to clarify. “Other than us? Who else would fill the vacuum?”

“I don’t know.” Obi-Wan said. “I just don’t know, Padawan. If we look at the Remulan parallel, it’s Palpatine.” Anakin’s stomach dropped.

“What?” Anakin tried to read his face. “Palpatine is the only good politician there is, beside Padmé—” At Obi-Wan’s look, he corrected. “Senator Amidala.”

“Maybe.” Obi-Wan’s voice was very quiet. “He’s at least complicit, Anakin. He’s working very hard to use the war to destroy the economic coalition behind the Separatists.”

“No, he’s not!” Anakin felt a surge of defensive anger. “The Chancellor is a good man. He’s trying to end the war.”

“Is he?” Obi-Wan caught his eye. “Watch him, please.”

“You want me to spy on my friend?” Anakin frowned.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Yes. I do.” There was a very uncomfortable silence. Anakin was trying to imagine the Chancellor as anything but the kind mentor that had been his outside support since he was a boy. The Chancellor had helped raise him, had always supported him, and had taken him on educational day trips. He was a good man, who only wanted the best for him. He believed in him! Anakin opened his mouth to keep arguing when Obi-Wan said repressively, “We can talk about Palpatine later.”

Anakin swallowed and nodded.

“Putting that aside,” Obi-Wan continued, slightly sardonic. “Truthfully, It doesn’t matter who is the one clearing the board, if we’re focusing on what happens when the board is cleared. We just have to try to keep an eye on those waiting to capitalize on the chaos. There will be a power vacuum. Someone has to fill it, at least long enough to rebuild some kind of stabilizing government.” He shrugged. “I think it could be us, at least I think about it a lot.”

Anakin yawned and slumped back. “Well, sure. I think that sounds good, Master. You’re very wise. I think you would be good as Emperor.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I’m not that wise, Padawan. I’m just not. Your immediate acceptance of this plan is either comforting or concerning, I haven’t decided which yet.” Anakin laughed quietly and Obi-Wan smiled at him, reaching out a hand and running a hand through his hair.

“Remember, though, we’re not going to plan beyond our scope.” Obi-Wan spoke in a low murmur, continuing to stroke his hair. Anakin pressed his head into his hand. Obi-Wan’s tone was determined. “We’re going to fight this war one battle at a time. The plan is going to shift every time we learn something new, every time we gain a new ally. We have a trajectory, but our eyes are focused on tomorrow, not next month, or next year from now on.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin’s voice was sleepy. He wasn’t exactly sure what Obi-Wan meant, and Obi-Wan smiled because he knew.

“Come here, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, opening his arms. Anakin immediately snuggled over, resting a head on his shoulder. Obi-Wan hugged him closer, pulling their chests together and tangling their legs together. Anakin relaxed completely against his body, so happy to be touching him, so happy to be near him. He breathed in the scent of Obi-Wan deeply, feeling at home. Obi-Wan said, “Let’s see if I can get your darkness back under control.”

Anakin shuddered happily and nuzzled his face against Obi-Wan as he felt the unbelievable sense of well-being and validation washing through the bond. Obi-Wan understood him, he forgave him, he accepted him. Anakin didn’t need to feel guilty, or ashamed, or afraid. His anger and fear seeped away. He was safe. Obi-Wan cared for him, and Obi-Wan was protecting him.

Anakin wanted the feeling to never end, but of course it did. The bond stayed partially open, though, and he clung to it. He whispered, “You almost died today, Master. Back in the skyscrapers. If I hadn’t gotten across when I had, you would be dead.”

“Yes, Padawan.” Obi-Wan stroked his back gently. “That is possible. You didn’t let that happen though—don’t think I don’t notice or appreciate it.”

Anakin blushed and pressed his face against Obi-Wan’s neck. “That’s not why I do it.”

“I know, Anakin.” Obi-Wan held him tight and kissed the top of his head. He murmured. “You shouldn’t have run in ahead.”

“Back with the witch?” Anakin sighed. “I know.”

Obi-Wan sounded worried. “Last time you did that—”

Anakin cut him off. “—I lost a hand, yes I _know_.”

“What _am_ I going to do with you?” Obi-Wan sighed, holding him tight for a moment before relaxing. “Let’s sleep. We probably have four hours.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin agreed. “I’m exhausted. I might actually be able to rest, too.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan said. “Tomorrow will be terrible.”

“Today,” Anakin said drowsily. “It’s already today.”

“Shush,” Obi-Wan whispered. “Sleep.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin smiled and relaxed into Obi-Wan’s warm body. “Sorry, Master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're moving forward, moving forward, wahoo
> 
> This was really fun to write, I hope it was fun to read :)
> 
> Writing multichapter stories is weird! I'm still figuring it out. Everything in the outline seems to take twice as many chapters as I expected! Ahsoka got pushed back because the Obi-Wan wanted to talk. *shrug*
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments, I feel strange replying about a story in progress, but I sincerely appreciate each one.


	8. Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another double update! This is what happens when chapter nine wants to be written before chapter eight haha. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and the comments, seriously. I really appreciate it and I'm glad you like it!! 
> 
> Padmé played an important role in resolving the crisis with Jabba. What will our heroes do without her?
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)

CHRISTOPHSIS

Late 22BBY

_This was terrible!_

Ahsoka looked at the Separatist blockade of the planet and frowned. _How was she even supposed to get down there? Was she going to fail at her first mission?_

“We’ll be sending you down in a Nu-class attack shuttle,” Admiral Yularen said. “You should be able to run the blockade before we engage with the fleet.” 

“I sure hope so,” Ahsoka said warily. “Won’t I get shot down?” 

“Probably not, Commander,” the Admiral said, with a small smile on his face.

“Alright,” she said. “Leave now?”

“Yes, you are prepped for transport.” He nodded crisply. “Details are on your com.”

“Thanks, Admiral.” Ahsoka tried not to sound nervous. It was hard. She was only fourteen, and did not want to get shot down before she even got to be a Padawan! That would not be fair. “I’ll go now.” 

He’d already turned back to the holomap. She sighed and left, finding her way through the massive cruiser, clones were running to positions, some nodding and saying “Commander” in a respectful tone before hurrying on. It was so weird, so different from the Temple.

She sure hoped that Yoda knew what he was doing. Ahsoka knew she was at the top of her clan when it came to fighting; her Togruta hunting instincts were a great help in combat. She could move faster and had sharper senses. She was a predator. She didn’t need to be afraid. _It’s just war, no big deal, right?!_

The pilot and the gunner were kind to her as she boarded, and they took off at once. She strapped herself in and stared incredulously out the window at the scale of the forces arrayed in space. It was almost creepy how they all seemed to be hanging silent in the black, looming near each other waiting for something to spark a fight. 

The pilot spun the shuttle fast to avoid a sudden spray of laser fire, dodging and swerving unexpectedly. Ahsoka held her breath as the brilliant lights shot around them. The vacuum of space was silent, but she felt like it should have been extremely loud. 

It was morbid, but she imagined what would happen if they were hit—her body floating there, in space, above Christophsis, forever. She let out a deep, shaky breath as they made it past the blockade and approached the planet’s surface. The pilot said, “We’re through the worst of it, Commander,” in a reassuring tone. 

Ahsoka nodded, shooting him a small grateful smile.“Thanks, Wingtip.” 

He smiled back and then refocused on the ground, eyes suddenly widening and forehead furrowing, yanking sharply up on the controls. “We’ve lost the landing pad!” He shouted into his com. “I’m going to try to set her down somewhere else!” Ahsoka heard the gunner was swearing in Mando’a and trying to help find a new place to put down as Wingtip did more spinning maneuvers, narrowly avoiding being shot down. 

Ahsoka’s pulse was racing. There was nothing she could do to help. She just needed to survive the next two minutes, and she would be a Padawan. She was so close to everything, it was all about to begin. It all might be ending. _This was terrible._

They landed, thankfully. Ahsoka felt a bit shaky but tried to collect herself. The ramp lowered slowly and she walked down, feeling tentative and looking around wide-eyed at all the rubble and running troops, overwhelmed by the vibrations. It was all so loud! 

Everything was _so different_ from the Temple; it was overwhelming chaos. Ahsoka felt a sense of whiplash, having been taken abruptly from her daydreams of battle and suddenly dropped in the middle of a real situation way, way too big for her. She swallowed, steadying her breath and standing up straight.

Her eyes finally caught on the faces of her new Master and Master Kenobi. They were legends around the Temple—nobody knew them at all and everyone seemed to know everything about them. Ahsoka still couldn’t believe Yoda assigned her to _the Chosen One_. She really hoped she’d be good enough; she wasn’t _foretold_ or anything.

She gulped and walked towards them. Master Skywalker looked so young in person! It hit her that he really was only twenty, barely a Knight and now her Master. They were both looking at her, and speaking lowly to each other. She strained to hear but couldn’t over all the vibrations from the explosions. Master Skywalker looked frustrated. _That was not good._

“Hello, young one,” Master Kenobi said. She nodded and smiled, drawing closer. He’d taught her class once, and she knew he was very kind. “Welcome to Christophsis. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is Anakin Skywalker.”

“Hi,” she said a little shyly before squaring her shoulders. They were famous, but they were both Jedi. She didn’t have to be intimidated. “My name is Ahsoka Tano, Master Yoda sent me. I'm the new Padawan learner.” She winced internally. _Obviously._

“Hi.” Master Skywalker spoke shortly. His voice was strained but not angry. “Are reinforcements coming too?”

She felt nervous that she didn’t have a positive response. “I was told to tell both of you that you must get back to the Jedi Temple immediately.” They looked unhappy, and so she finished kind of lamely, “There's an emergency.”

Anakin scoffed and looked back at Obi-Wan. “Well, I don't know if you've noticed but we're in a bit of an emergency right here.”

Obi-Wan’s face was frustrated too. “Yes, our communications have been a bit unreliable but we've been calling for help.”

She didn’t know what to say. “Master Yoda hadn't heard from you so he sent me to deliver that message.”

“Oh, great!” Anakin threw up his hands and glared at her transport for failing to bring more than just her. _At least he wasn’t glaring at her…_ “They don't even know we're in trouble.” 

Ahsoka swallowed again, and tried to think how she could be useful, how she could prove that she should be there. An idea came. “Maybe you can relay a signal through the cruiser that just dropped me off?” 

They exchanged a glance and then looked back at her. Anakin’s face was chagrined and a bit more welcoming. “Right, we can do that.”

Ahsoka relaxed a little as they went back to contact Master Yoda. The first hurdle was over. She’d spoken with _the Chosen One_ and he was just like everybody else. She was finally a Padawan, she’d someday be a Knight. Everything would be fine. 

She could do this.

—

“She’s too young, Master,” Anakin said in a low murmur as a Togruta teenager without any armor walked off the shuttle. “She shouldn’t be here. This is a battlefield.” He frowned. “What was Yoda thinking?”

“I don’t know, Padawan.” Obi-Wan murmured back. “It is wildly irresponsible.”

“I can’t believe they think spying is important enough to make younglings into soldiers,” Anakin grumbled. “She’s going to have to fight.”

“Yes, she will.” Obi-Wan agreed in an equally resigned and furious voice. His face remained neutral and welcoming. Anakin really wished sometimes that he could master that particular skill. 

Anakin was glad that she was clever, and seemed brave.

From the shuttle, they were able to make contact with the cruiser, and Admiral Yularen was able to patch them through to the Temple, and a flickering holo of Yoda appeared. Anakin let out a breath of relief that they’d finally made contact. 

“Master Kenobi, glad Ahsoka found you, I am.” The sound of his voice made Anakin cross his arms and frown. He wasn’t feeling particularly friendly towards Yoda at the moment. He could feel Obi-Wan’s prickling resentment in the bond too, but he spoke as smoothly as ever.

“Master Yoda, we are trapped here, and vastly outnumbered. We are in no position to go anywhere or do anything. Our support ships have all been destroyed.”

The holo began to flicker wildly, the audio breaking up. “Send reinforcements to you, we will—” 

“Master Yoda?” Obi-Wan said, alarmed. “Master Yoda?” The figure of Yoda disappeared.

Yularen’s holo reappeared, looking harassed. “We've lost the transmission, sir. We have to leave orbit immediately. More enemy ships have just arrived. We'll get back to you as soon as we can.” The com dropped entirely. The shuttle was very quiet for a long moment, the muffled sound of nearby explosions very loud.

“Well, I guess we'll have to hold out a little longer.” Anakin said bleakly and turned on a holomap of the city.

Obi-Wan manipulated the view on the map to show a growing red dome. “Our main problem is with their energy shield.” He tapped the controls to show progression over time. “They're slowly increasing the diameter, and keeping it just ahead of their troops. Our heavy cannons are useless against it. They will march forward under the protection of their shield until they are right on top of our cannons.” 

Anakin nodded and frowned, trying to figure out a solution. They were running out of time. He increased the magnification of the holomap and began looking at the very familiar layout of the streets of the city, considering defensive positions. 

He gestured to a main arterial. “We could try to draw the droids into these buildings. There are too many to fight on the streets and _Slick_ took out most of our capacity for that anyway. We need to create bottlenecks. That might level the playing field a bit.” 

Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully and reoriented the map for a better view. He crossed his arms and stroked his beard. Anakin waited, watching him decide on the merits of the idea.

“I have a question?” 

They both started a little and looked around at the same time. The sound of Ahsoka’s girlish voice was so different from all the clone’s slight variations on one shared voice that they had grown used to hearing around them on the battlefield.

Ahsoka took their confused silence as permission to speak and asked, “If that shield's gonna be such a problem, why don't we just take it out?” She looked at Anakin for approval, and Anakin considered a moment and then raised an eyebrow and looked at Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan frowned at them both. “That is easier said than done, young one.” He manipulated the map to show the sea of droids between their position and the shield generator.

“Well, I agree with her, Master.” Anakin said, resigned. “Someone has to get to that shield generator and destroy it. That's the only way we’re going to survive until reinforcements arrive.” There was a long, strained silence.

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. “Anakin, I’m afraid you’re right... or, Ahsoka, actually.” Anakin smiled widely as Obi-Wan corrected himself and Ahsoka giggled as the tension broke slightly. “Maybe you two can tiptoe through the enemy lines and solve this particular problem together.”

Ahsoka seemed to bounce in excitement. “Can do, Master Kenobi!” Anakin frowned at her. 

“I’ll decide what we do, Padawan.” She looked at him and stopped bouncing. 

“Sorry… Master.” They studied each other, recognizing each other’s presence and importance fully for the first time. Anakin felt a tingle in the Force, and realized that they had already formed a slight bond.

Obi-Wan was ignoring them in favor of the holomap. He finally manipulated the view to show a corridor of downed buildings and said, “If Rex and I can engage them here, you two might have a chance to get through their lines undetected, here.” He changed the holomap’s perspective and pointed out the vulnerable bridge. Anakin saw concern in his eyes. “You won't have much time.”

Anakin shrugged. “We'll have to figure out a way.” They made significant eye contact for a long moment and he felt Obi-Wan’s mind press against his. 

_“Watch out for Ahsoka, make sure to see what she is capable of handling before taking risks with her life, alright? I know you’ll do well. Be safe.”_ Anakin nodded back in acknowledgement.

“Come on, Master, let's go?” Anakin blinked and looked over at his Padawan. Ahsoka was looking between him and Obi-Wan with wide, confused eyes. She stood up straighter under observation, trying to look ready to go. It was almost cute. Anakin sighed.

“Let’s go, youngling,” Anakin said, turning to leave and waving her to follow. He heard her jogging to catch up.

“Hey! I am _not_ a youngling!”

He smiled. This might be fun.

—

Obi-Wan noticed the clone being choked to death in the street, and jumped out the window.

Using the momentum of his fall to swing a powerful blow, he severed the arms of the super battle droid, used the Force to lift and throw it, using it to crush another advancing droid against the wall. 

The downed trooper threw off the metal arms that had been clutching his neck and began rapidly firing his blaster, protecting the General’s back, and took out a third super droid that emerged from the smoke. Obi-Wan flipped over a piece of rubble and dispatched another group approaching from an alleyway.

It felt never-ending. 

Obi-Wan was holding a key chokepoint, and the pile of crushed and slashed droids was growing around him. He mused that if this kept up, he could create a barricade just from the wreckage of their bodies and hide behind a wall of CIS scrap. He felt a surge of gratitude that they were fighting inanimate objects. A wall of corpses would be much less amusing. 

The droids just kept coming. All Obi-Wan could feel was the adrenaline of battle and the lingering fog of trooper deaths in the Force. He pushed and pushed, kept fighting, kept defending, kept failing. His despair and frustration with the futility of the carnage made the dark side crackle around him. He resisted a siren call that grew louder with every familiar, precious Force signature that went out like snuffed candles one by one in flares of pain and confusion, and then absence.

Obi-Wan turned to cut down another droid when it unexpectedly fell forward, shot down from behind, Rex running forward to fill the space. Troopers were streaming back with him through the gap, the final wave retreating from the fight on the streets and in the buildings. There were too few. 

Rex was breathing hard. “They're right behind us, sir! They wiped out most of my unit.” Obi-Wan’s stomach dropped. “We had to pull out of there.” Obi-Wan blocked a bright red bolt headed for Rex’s head, and then spun his blade with more speed at a barrage of blaster fire. Super droids emerged out of the dust and smoke. There were too many.

The increasingly heavy fire was becoming impossible for Obi-Wan to block, and they ducked for cover. Obi-Wan reported with Force-sensed certainty, “The shield has almost reached the heavy cannons!” 

“We're not gonna be able to stop them, sir.” Rex sounded frustrated. They could hear the sound of marching droids advancing on their position quickly. 

Obi-Wan made a decision. “Move your troops back to the heavy cannons. Do everything you can to protect them. I'll delay the droids.”

“But…” Rex was looking at him, offended at the idea of leaving his General behind.

“That is an ORDER, Captain!” Obi-Wan’s voice was aggressive, but he put a reassuring hand on Rex’s shoulder. Rex nodded and ran. Men around him started running too, retreating before Rex started shouting into his com for the men to follow. Obi-Wan frowned and then shook his head. He didn’t have time to consider that.

Obi-Wan was rapidly left alone, men retreating behind him. He was one man standing between a legion of droids and the lives of his troopers. Obi-Wan simply would not allow a massacre. They needed to hold out longer, they needed a delay. He would provide it.

The Force trembled with the warning of incoming droids and Obi-Wan took a deep breath. He jumped on top of the barricade, lightsaber flashing, blocking as many bolts from reaching the retreating troopers as he could. He would hold his position for as long as possible, but he knew well what to do when he was surrounded.

It wasn’t even _technically_ a war crime.

Eventually, the droids’ superior numbers proved overwhelming, and Obi-Wan found himself encircled by layers of super droids, too many to count. He smirked and deactivated his blade, handing it over without fuss.

“I surrender.” He was careful with his words. That was the key. The droids led him away, taking him deep into droid controlled territory toward their command center. Obi-Wan cracked his neck. It was time for stalling. He was very good at that.

He was surprised at how long the ruse lasted, actually. The CIS leader, General Loathsom, was incredibly easy to persuade to tea. A subtle Force suggestion didn’t hurt, either. It amused him greatly to see how Loathsom’s behavior confused and frustrated the droids.

_Droids are so uncivilized._ They had no appreciation for a good ruse of war. Obi-Wan made sure to speak hypothetically, and was appropriately sycophantic and verbose, inventing details and points of contention, alternatively flattering and frustrating, waiting for Anakin and Ahsoka. They were his only hope of avoiding being killed or taken hostage.

Eventually, his luck ran out. 

Loathsom flipped the table, frustrated. “Enough of this! You are stalling! Unless you call off your troops right now, I will have no choice but to destroy you.”

“Nonsense, General,” Obi-Wan replied in an intentionally sincere voice. “There are _numerous_ details still to be discussed!”

Loathsom ordered, “Seize him!”

Obi-Wan sighed, sitting back in his chair and dropping the act, voice flat. “Truthfully, I was hoping your shield would be knocked out by now.” The droids moved closer to take him into custody when they were interrupted by a very loud, distant explosion. Obi-Wan smiled as the shield fell. _Anakin had done the impossible, again._ The Republic’s heavy cannon began firing rapidly. His heart swelled with happiness and pride—enough troopers had survived to fire them. 

Obi-Wan’s voice became mockingly sympathetic. ”Something does appear to have happened to your shield, General.”

His com lit up and the voice of Admiral Yularen came through loud and clear. “General Kenobi, if you can hear me, we're through the blockade. The Separatist armada is in retreat. Your reinforcements should be landing in a moment.”

He smirked at General Loathsom, who looked horrified, and replied with satisfaction. 

“Your timing is perfect.”

—

Master Yoda paced thoughtfully with his gimmer stick. Anakin watched, disgruntled. He was very tired, and admittedly short tempered. He did not appreciate back to back assignments like this. He’d been under siege for weeks, dealing with sabotage and treason. He wanted a break. Just today alone had been an incredibly long and stressful infiltration behind enemy lines—though Ahsoka had been a surprisingly large help. She was very skilled with a blade and very agile. She needed armor. He needed to talk to Rex.

Yoda looked at him keenly, and Anakin crushed all his emotions, looking back blankly. Yoda nodded and said, “To the Teth system, you must go.”

“Teth?” Anakin frowned and looked at Obi-Wan for confirmation. “That's Wild Space. The droid army isn't even in that sector.”

“Kidnapped, Jabba the Hutt's son has been.” Yoda tapped the ground with his stick. There was a pause as Anakin realized what was being asked of him. 

“You want ME to rescue _Jabba's_ son?” He looked wide-eyed at Obi-Wan for assistance. He didn’t find any, only sympathy.

Obi-Wan tipped his head slightly towards Yoda and said, “Anakin, we'll need the Hutts' allegiance to give us an advantage over Dooku.” Anakin knew he was playing his part as Councilor, but he hated it.

“Negotiate the treaty with Jabba, Obi-Wan will.” Yoda looked at Anakin again with an evaluating gaze that Anakin did not appreciate. “Find the renegades that hold Jabba's son, your mission will be, Skywalker.” Anakin clenched his jaw. _Why him? Why were they always testing him? Did they want to see him break?_

Ahsoka piped up next to him, “Come on, Master, it doesn't sound that hard. I'll find Rex and get the troops organized.” He nodded and she darted away, leaving him alone with Obi-Wan and Yoda. 

He grumbled, “I still don't think dealing with the Hutts is a good idea.”

“Anakin, you know they control shipping routes in the Outer Rim.” Obi-Wan gave him a significant look—one of his least favorite looks, the ‘ _the-Council-Is-Right-Unfortunately’_ look. “Jabba's cooperation is crucial to the war effort. Whoever gains Jabba's favor will control the war in the Outer Rim.” 

Anakin sighed. _Obi-Wan needed him to do this._ He would do it for Obi-Wan. Not for Yoda and the rest of the hypocritical, slavery-complict Council.

“Fine, Master. I’ll go.” _But I won’t be happy about it._

Obi-Wan nodded like he’d heard the second part. Anakin nodded back and left, getting as far away from Yoda as he could as fast as possible. 

Time to rescue a Hutt.

—

TATOOINE

One Standard Rotation Later

Anakin was walking as straight as possible and as fast as possible. He was carrying a backpack full of rocks across the desert, sliding through the gritty, abrasive sand of Tatooine. _Why him? There were about five hundred other Jedi they could have chosen, why him?_ He wanted to get off this planet, immediately. 

He felt the night air grow colder as a speeder bike approached him from a distance. It was Dooku, just as he’d predicted. Hopefully Ahsoka was making her way to Jabba’s palace unharmed with the Huttlet. It was time for Anakin to do his least favorite thing: be the distraction. Where was Obi-Wan when he needed him?

“Anakin!” Anakin looked over, wide eyed. Obi-Wan was standing five feet away, looking concerned at the lightsaber in his hand. “What’s happening.” 

Dooku’s cape fluttered dramatically as he dismounted his bike. He struck a pose on a hill and said in his deep, magisterial tone, “Surrender the Huttlet or die, Skywalker.” Anakin glared at him and clenched his metal hand tightly around his lightsaber.

“Dooku,” Anakin replied to both and ignited his lightsaber. “Good to see you.”

“What?” Obi-Wan barked. “Are you facing Dooku?” Anakin nodded slightly, raising his guard, waiting. The air was growing even colder. “Do not kill him!”

_“What?”_ Anakin projected in the bond. _“Why the kriff not?”_

“We know he’s the Sith Apprentice.” Obi-Wan said quickly. “We don’t want a new one!”

Dooku suddenly shot a bolt of lightning at him, and it took all of Anakin’s concentration to feed the energy into his lightsaber. He’d worked hard on this, since the last time they fought. He would never be caught off guard by lightning again. He could sense Obi-Wan’s frustration and concern, but ignored it. He needed all his concentration to contain the lightning. 

Dooku smirked as his lighting failed, “Your training has come a long way, boy.” He drew closer, red blade extending.

Anakin grit his teeth as he heard Obi-Wan say, “I’m coming, I’m leaving the fleet early, taking a faster ship. I’ll be there soon, _do not kill him!”_

Anakin scowled and fell into Soresu. He sincerely hoped that Dooku would make a mistake, however unlikely that may be. He knew that delaying Dooku and defending himself were a much higher priority than kill or capture, but if Dooku got snagged and killed by Anakin’s defense, Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to say anything. 

Dooku attacked ferociously, and Anakin blocked and gave ground. Dooku frowned slightly and attacked again, and Anakin gave more ground. Anakin smirked when Dooku glowered at him, continuing to refuse to engage him properly, continuing to retreat and draw Dooku along the sandy hills to nowhere. 

Blue and red blades continued a pattern of meeting and separating, the crashing and humming filling the air, the light casting strange shadows on the dunes. 

Dooku grew frustrated, and pulled away entirely, moving to better ground. He looked at Anakin consideringly, as if trying to figure out his uncharacteristically passive fighting style. His eyes filled with malice and he spoke tauntingly, trying to make Anakin angry, trying to distract him. “This was your home planet, wasn't it? I sense your strong feelings. Feelings of pain, loss.” 

Anakin smiled and shrugged, blade coming up to defend again. His feelings of pain and loss were sharp, but he did not fall into a rage over them. He was playing a game. Dooku was being toyed with. Anakin enjoyed that. He shifted slightly, frowning at being off balance in the sand. Wearing a backpack full of rocks was not helpful for balance or speed, but he made do. The longer Dooku engaged with him, the safer Ahsoka would be. 

Their blades moved swiftly, Dooku’s clever attacks being met with Anakin’s solid impression of Obi-Wan’s impenetrable Soresu defense. Finally, one exchange finally got too close, and Dooku’s blade cut through Anakin’s backpack, slicing through the rocks. 

Dooku’s wicked joy spiked in the Force. “You've failed, _Jedi_. I have just killed Jabba's son.”

Anakin was thrilled that he _finally_ got to dump off the heavy backpack, letting the sliced rocks spill out. He smirked, breathing hard. “You've fallen for my little trick, _Count_. It's nothing but rocks. The Huttlet is with my Padawan, safely at Jabba's palace.” He pulled up his blade into a defensive stance and waited for an attack that never came.

“I expected such treachery from a Jedi.” Dooku sneered, his tone contemptuous. “I assure you my web is strong enough to catch your insignificant little Padawan.”

Anakin spat back, “She's more skillful than you think!” He realized it was even true.

“You deceive yourself!” Dooku laughed and pulled out his comlink. “Look, I have a message from your Padawan.” He played a recording of three MagnaGuards pressing Ahsoka hard. Dooku crowed, “After my droids kill Jabba's son they will deliver your Padawan to him for punishment for the Huttlet's murder.” His tone grew falsely regretful. “I can't imagine he will be merciful.”

Anakin had a single moment of indecision before the weight of both Obi-Wan’s command not to kill Dooku and his need to check on his Padawan combined to move him with urgency. He needed to get to Jabba’s palace, and fast. Anakin’s eyes fell on Dooku’s speeder bike, and bolted. 

Dooku let him go without a fight, and Anakin wondered if the Sith had given Dooku instructions not to kill Anakin either. If that were true, that would have been the biggest farce of a fight he’d ever been in. Anakin ground his teeth and accelerated. He knew this land like the back of his hand. He felt almost like he was podracing, again. He felt like a child.

Anakin hated Tatooine.

He had faith in Ahsoka. She’d proved herself over and over in the last day, and he knew that Dooku was a liar. He headed straight for Jabba’s palace, feeling certainty from the Force that Ahsoka was both in that direction and that she was alright. Their bond was developing nicely for only one mission together, he thought. 

He arrived at the palace and felt her nearby. Good. They took his lightsaber, but he didn’t much mind. It would just be a Force-pull away. He felt Obi-Wan’s ship enter the system and smiled. His Master’s anxiety was all for nothing.

The protocol droid led him in and said, “This is Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker.” Anakin stood before Jabba, looking warily around for Ahsoka. He knew she was there. _Where was she?_ The protocol droid continued, “As Count Dooku said, your son is not with him.”

“What?” Anakin said in genuine surprise. “Your son's not here?” He felt out with the Force again. He could feel her! _Where was she?_ “Where's Ahsoka? What have you done with my Padawan?”

The Hutt started speaking and Anakin felt a spike of loathing. He hated hearing Huttese in the first place, let alone hearing it from one of the disgusting slugs themselves. The protocol droid translated unnecessarily, “You came here to kill Jabba.”

He glared. “Mighty Jabba, I came here to negotiate.”

The droid again translated, “You came here to die.” Anakin sighed. _Fantastic_. A room full of blasters were suddenly pointed at him, and Anakin sensed danger all around him in the Force. He reached out and was about to pull his lightsaber when Ahsoka ran into the room, holding up the Huttlet.

“Stop!” She yelled, “Stop! He’s here, he’s right here, he’s fine.” She was out of breath as she handed him over. 

Anakin sighed a breath of relief, looking her over for injuries as Jabba reached out for his son, babbling excitedly as they were reunited. Anakin’s lip curled and he turned to Ahsoka, ignoring the Hutts as best he could. The mission was over, and his Padawan seemed unharmed. He took another deep breath and smiled at her. 

“You’re late.” Anakin teased. 

She grinned back up at him, “But I made it!” She huffed a breath and stood up straight, looking very proud. “I destroyed three MagnaGuards!” Anakin laughed and looked at the door, hoping they could leave. He opened his mouth to suggest it, and was cut off by Jabba’s slimy Huttese.

“You are to be executed immediately.” The protocol droid cheerfully translated. 

They both looked up at the dais and frowned, speaking at the same time: “What?!” 

Blasters were raised again, surrounding them. The room devolved into chaos, party-goers disturbed by all the bounty hunters pulling their weapons and taking positions. Anakin scowled and raised a hand, summoning his lightsaber and immediately igniting it. Ahsoka did the same.

“Does this always happen to you?” She sounded disbelieving.

“Everywhere I go.” Anakin groaned. 

Ahsoka giggled and moved to stand back-to-back with him, lightsaber ready for defense. He smiled and raised his blade, readying himself for a fight, the moment pregnant with expectation of violence.

_“Stop!”_

Obi-Wan’s sharp voice cut through the chaos. His words were laced with a mild force suggestion and much of the activity in the room ground to a halt. Some party goers froze and some bounty hunters lowered their blasters. Anakin and Ahsoka stood ready with lightsabers ignited, looking around at the effect, and Jabba laughed from the dais. 

“ _You will all stop!”_

Obi-Wan’s voice cracked like a whip, and everything went quiet. Anakin was just as frozen as the rest of the room for a moment before he stood up straight. Ahsoka took a couple more seconds, but she shook herself free too, looking up at Anakin with wide eyes before looking at the silhouette of Obi-Wan in the doorway. 

Jabba began to yell and his droids protested, but Obi-Wan simply ordered, _“You will all return to your homes!”_

The room began to empty as the drunk and simple-minded left in a stampede, and the sober and clever were wise enough to leave with them. Nobody wanted to get involved in Jedi business. As Obi-Wan entered, he raised a hand and lifted Jabba off the ground with the Force, preventing him from leaving too.

Obi-Wan walked smoothly against the tide of bodies, coming to meet Anakin and Ahsoka and standing with them for a moment before Jabba’s platform. Obi-Wan said, much more quietly, “Ahsoka, my ship was under assault by Jawas, will you go help Arsix?”

Ahsoka looked at Anakin and Anakin nodded. 

She smiled up at Obi-Wan and agreed cheerfully, “Of course, Master Kenobi!” She scampered out, following the exodus. Obi-Wan began to use the Force to move all of Jabba’s droids into the entryway as the room emptied completely, and Anakin hastened to help. Anakin watched bemused as Obi-Wan closed the door on the droids with relish, boxing them all out.

Obi-Wan moved directly to the wall, found the security panel, and began to work on locking down all the doors to the palace and the throne room and all the security cameras. He asked distractedly, “Do you sense any recording devices, Anakin?” 

“Yes, several.” Anakin said, looking around.

“Destroy them all.” Anakin looked confused and Obi-Wan said. “I’m going to negotiate to get the treaty signed and I don’t think any recording would be wise.”

“Fine.” Anakin shrugged and began crushing bugs. “How are you going to get him to agree? We gave him the Huttlet and he was still trying to kill us.”

“Yes, I saw him do that.” Anakin got chills from the threat carried in his voice. Obi-Wan finished up and they both did one more sweep with the Force to ensure that they were totally alone with Jabba. “Anakin, I need your help. I need your anger.”

“What?” Anakin wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “What do you mean?”

“I need you to get angry.” Obi-Wan looked slightly uncomfortable. “I need to mind trick Jabba.” 

Anakin laughed like it was a joke. At Obi-Wan’s serious look he shook his head, “It’s not possible to mind trick a Hutt.”

“Not for a Jedi.” Obi-Wan swallowed and looked sick. “I’ve read that Darth Revan did it. Sith can do it. I need all of your anger to add to mine. It’s the only way.”

“We’re not Sith!” Anakin couldn’t believe Obi-Wan was suggesting this. “Anyway, I can’t just get _that_ angry on command!”

“Can’t you?” Obi-Wan snarked at him. “Anakin, you’ve been able to become angry at the slightest provocation for as long as I’ve known you. Now, the first time it would actually be _helpful_ , you are telling me you can’t?”

“No! I can’t!” Anakin frowned. “I’m very irritated, but I don’t just get really _angry_ for no reason. There’s always a reason.”

“Fine, I’ll start giving you reasons. This shouldn’t take long.” Obi-Wan began pacing back and forth looking him up and down. “Yoda told me that he only gave you a Padawan to see how you will react when you inevitably lose her. He thinks losing her will teach you a lesson.”

“What?” Anakin was taken aback, indignation rising. “What do you mean lose her?” Obi-Wan gave him a pointed look, letting him draw his own conclusions, and continued to pace.

“I truly _despise_ Palpatine.” Obi-Wan shot him a provocative sneer. “He’s a lying snake and a self-serving puppet figurehead for the Sith.” 

“No, he isn’t!” Anakin snapped back, immediately on the defensive. “He is not! He’s trying to _help!_ He doesn’t deserve your—” Obi-Wan cut him off, squaring up to face him.

“How long did a Hutt own your mother?” Anakin took a sharp breath. He felt hot. Obi-Wan twisted the knife. “What kind of slave was she? What did they make her do? What kind of slave were you?”

“Obi-Wan, that’s _enough!”_ Anakin’s skin was flushed, his nostrils flaring, his neck corded. Anakin felt his skin prickle at the energy of his rage hanging in the Force, radiating out and almost creating an almost imperceptible heat shimmer in the air.

Obi-Wan smiled widely. “See? Hardly took any effort at all to make you angry.” His pupils were blown. “And you are so very, very angry.”

“Yes.” Anakin ground out, breathing hard. “Well done, _Master_.” He spat the words. 

“Do you truly hate them?” Obi-Wan asked softly. “Hate the Hutts? Hate what they did to you? To your mother?” 

“Yes.” Anakin began moving towards him slowly and deliberately. “Obviously, Obi-Wan.”

“Then help me.” Obi-Wan said, holding eye contact as Anakin drew nearer. “Open the bond all the way.” 

Anakin stood in his personal space and looked down at him, glaring. “It is all the way open.”

“No,” Obi-Wan’s voice was soft and dangerous. “It is not. I know you have more to give.” Anakin looked away from him and over at the floating, yelling Hutt, staring at him and letting his anger build and focus. He clenched his jaw and tried to empty his well of suppressed anger, reaching deep down into the resentment he had crushed down as a child slave, touching the rage that had never truly left him about leaving his mother behind in bondage, and drew it forth in a great wave, inundating Obi-Wan—forcing him to feel it all too.

Obi-Wan sucked in a deep breath. “Very good, Anakin.” Obi-Wan turned to the immobilized Jabba and waved a hand, pushing hard. “You _will_ listen to me.” 

Jabba laughed. “ _Beeogola Jeedai mind tricks widd not beet nop Jabba._ ” 

“Anakin, translate his response.” Obi-Wan sounded annoyed.

“He says ‘Stupid Jedi, Jabba cannot be tricked.” Anakin shrugged. Obi-Wan sighed dramatically and stepped closer. Anakin felt Obi-Wan grasping and pulling the Force against its natural grain, twisting it hard, wringing more power from the storm cloud in the Force that was Anakin’s anger. He waved his hand again. 

“You _will_ sign the treaty.”

Jabba seemed angry and growled in Huttese. Anakin translated immediately, “Stop that. Jabba will never allow any Republic ships through Hutt space again.” Obi-Wan nodded. He jumped up onto Jabba’s platform and stalked closer. 

Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force expanded suddenly, filling the room. Anakin realized that Obi-Wan was intentionally resonating with the disturbance already around them, all the suffering and passion left hanging in the Force, drawing on the fact that they were already standing in a cesspool of the dark side. 

The lingering haze of lust and resentment from Jabba’s parties, mixed with the pervasive miasma of suffering left by generations of Jabba’s slaves—Obi-Wan drew all of it into himself, all the energy of all the emotions humming in the Force. Obi-Wan was bending it all to his will. 

Anakin’s eyes widened as he felt the room begin to go cold, like it had when he’d fought Dooku. Obi-Wan’s frigid wrath had begun leeching all of the energy from the heat in the air, all of Anakin’s hot anger shimmering in the Force. The gradient of energy all flowed towards Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan had completely stopped holding back. His use of the Force spiked and Anakin shuddered, pushing his awe with his anger as he gave as much emotion as he had to give. 

Obi-Wan touched Jabba’s forehead lightly and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and _pushed_ all that power out through his fingertips and down into Jabba’s mind, bending it to his will: _“You will sign the treaty.”_

Anakin was frozen, Anakin was burning up, the Force was flowing and bending, it was mesmerizing, it was draining. Jabba seemed dazed—dazed enough to speak Basic. “I will sign the treaty.” Anakin sucked in a surprised gasp. Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed and he pushed again. 

_“You agreed of your own free will, because Dooku kidnapped your punky muffin.”  
_  
Anakin wanted to laugh, but the amount of the dark side flowing through his Master was the least funny thing he’d ever seen. His own anger grew that his Master, _his Obi-Wan_ , was having to do _this_ just for access to kriffing shipping lanes.

“I agreed of my own free will, because Dooku kidnapped my punky muffin.” Jabba’s voice was muddled.

Obi-Was glared at him and emphasized, _“You will say that Dooku is responsible and you signed the treaty with the Republic because of him.”_

“Dooku did this. I signed because of him.” Obi-Wan nodded and pushed again. Jabba’s eyes were crossing. Anakin swallowed anxiously, all of his energy focused on helping his Master. He shivered with cold as Obi-Wan pressed his fingers harder against Jabba, hand shaking lightly.

_“You did not see me use the Force. You negotiated with me to let Anakin and Ahsoka go and sign the treaty.”_

“I negotiated with you.” Jabba sounded obedient, and Obi-Wan smirked wickedly in satisfaction at his response. That expression made Anakin blush, and he began pushing his desire out with the rest of his emotions, sending everything towards Obi-Wan, letting him have it all. Obi-Wan shot him a look and took a shaky breath before pushing one last time.

_“Sleep.”_ Jabba’s eyes closed. The room was silent.

Obi-Wan looked back at Anakin, gleaming eyes heavy lidded and his cheeks flushed. The dark side hung around him like a mantle, crackling with power. A crooked, satisfied grin spread across his face, and Anakin swallowed. Obi-Wan spoke with pleasure, “Anakin, we might well have done it.” 

“I hope so, Master.” Anakin said, lost in Obi-Wan’s bright eyes, breathing hard. He had been so angry, then suddenly so aroused by Obi-Wan’s power and control, and now Obi-Wan was looking at him like that. He felt his cock throb painfully. Obi-Wan hopped down from Jabba’s platform and stood before Anakin, looking him over. 

“Kneel, Anakin.” All of the blood left in Anakin’s brain shot to his cock, and he thoughtlessly sunk to his knees. Obi-Wan sounded so aroused. “I need your help, dear one. Yoda is coming, his arrival is imminent. I am not in control.”

“How can I help?” Anakin asked, dazed.

“Open your mouth,” Obi-Wan said, pushing his tabards out of the way, opening his pants. “Suck my cock.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said, his eyes widening. He looked around the deserted room. Jabba was asleep. They’d debugged the room completely. Nobody would know. _But still_. He couldn’t believe he was about to suck cock in the throne room of Jabba’s palace. He looked back up at Obi-Wan to see him already stroking himself, looking down at Anakin intently. He looked painfully hard. Anakin breathed, “Of course, Master,” and opened his mouth.

“Show me your tongue.” Anakin relaxed his jaw and opened his mouth wider, letting his tongue stick out. His eyes were stuck on Obi-Wan’s hand stroking himself. Anakin was so hard, he couldn’t stand it. He slid a hand down and palmed his own cock. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “You _may_ touch yourself, thank you for asking, Padawan.” Anakin whined, sending a wave of apology in the Force.

Obi-Wan grabbed his hair tightly, and positioned his face at the right angle. Anakin’s eyes fluttered closed at the pull, and then opened wide when the tip of Obi-Wan’s cock slid between his lips and into his mouth. He looked up to make eye contact with Obi-Wan, relaxing his jaw further. Obi-Wan held Anakin’s head still and thrust his hips forward, shoving his cock down the back of Anakin’s throat.

Anakin gagged slightly, but relaxed into the feeling. He loved when Obi-Wan fucked his mouth, he had gotten so good at taking it. Obi-Wan smiled down at him, his cheeks flushed, and began slowly sliding his cock in and out. Anakin moaned and pressed his lips against the length of Obi-Wan’s cock, sucking as best he could. 

Obi-Wan fucked in hard several times and then pulled out, letting him breathe. Anakin hastily opened his own pants and licked his palm wet, using his own spit and some of Obi-Wan’s precome to stroke himself quickly.

Obi-Wan smiled. “So needy, dear.” Anakin nodded and opened his mouth again, looking up with a question in his eyes. Obi-Wan obligingly put his cock back on Anakin’s tongue, letting Anakin lick and suck at the sensitive skin of the head. “Good, very good, Padawan, thank you,” Obi-Wan murmured, pulling away, “Are you ready to take it?” 

Anakin moaned and nodded, stroking himself harder, looking up and begging, “Please, Master, I am, I want to.” Obi-Wan let him breathe for a moment more before pushing in hard, pulling Anakin forward towards his hips by the hair. Obi-Wan groaned as his cock slid down the back of Anakin’s throat, and then groaned again as he began to fuck harder and harder into the wet heat of Anakin’s mouth.

Anakin felt his eyes roll back and flutter shut in pleasure. Obi-Wan needed him, he needed to use Anakin as a release for his anger, for his darkness. Anakin felt so helpful, so useful. Drool dripped out of his mouth and he reached the hand on his own cock up to his mouth and took some of the wetness back down, stroking himself even harder, his other hand reaching to cup his balls with cool metal.

Anakin looked up, mouth full of cock, and made eye contact with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s eyes were so bright they looked almost golden—he was so focused on Anakin, looking at him like he knew him completely, owned him completely. Anakin felt himself begin to get lightheaded for lack of air, and Obi-Wan pulled out. Anakin gasped. “Please, please, more, Master,” he begged. 

Obi-Wan laughed and fucked back in hard, sinking nearly his entire cock in and down Anakin’s throat, gripping his hair tight and pulling his head, thrusting even deeper. Anakin took it, stroking himself hard, twisting his wrist and squeezing tight. He heard Obi-Wan murmur, thrusting hard between words, “Very good, yes, darling, sweetheart, Padawan, _take it_.” 

Anakin’s orgasm rolled over him and he came hard all over his hands, moaning around Obi-Wan’s cock, eyes fluttering shut. Obi-Wan was holding him up by the hair and by the jaw—holding Anakin still, fucking his face through his orgasm—Anakin’s body felt limp. Obi-Wan thrust once more deep into Anakin’s mouth and came too, groaning and spilling his come down his throat, his breath shaky. 

Anakin swallowed down his Master’s come with a thrill of pride. It always felt like an accomplishment when Obi-Wan came. He needed to breathe rather badly, now, so he tapped Obi-Wan's thigh, and Obi-Wan slid his cock out.

“Thank you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said quietly, slowly tucking himself away. He breathed deeply, posture relaxing, eyes warming back up. “I feel better, more in control.” He began fixing his robes.

“I feel—” Anakin looked up sharply.

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh. “I feel Yoda too, he’s just entered the system. We have very good timing. Come here for one moment.” He pulled Anakin up to standing, and surrounded him with his Force signature. “You must be completely ready for Yoda too.” Anakin suddenly felt a rush of being warm and safe, wanted and special. He leaned against Obi-Wan, letting him hug him tight, happily dissolved into Obi-Wan’s mind, his anger and fear were gone. When he opened his eyes he felt at peace. 

They stood closely together for a long moment, waiting for their breathing to return to normal. Anakin pulled back and frowned at his dirty hands. He looked apologetically at Obi-Wan and then stepped away over to the bar to wash them. Obi-Wan followed along, checking him over for tidiness too, straightening his tabards. They looked at each other and nodded. They were ready, and the room had regained its natural heat. 

“Let’s hope the mind trick on Jabba holds steady.” Obi-Wan sighed. “I felt it take. His mind is strangely organized and was highly resistant, but I felt him accept the new thoughts. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Anakin shook his head, looking at him sideways. “I don’t think anyone’s done that. Not for a long time.”

“That may very well be true, Padawan.” Obi-Wan looked down. “It’s probably true.” He used the security panel to reopen Jabba’s palace, and they headed toward the entrance, passing a huddle of confused droids waiting outside.

“I wonder if Ahsoka is having trouble with the Jawas,” Anakin smirked. “They won’t know what hit them.”

Obi-Wan smiled at him warmly. “No, they won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.
> 
> This is a double update, so there's another chapter after this!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	9. Ripples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is number two of a double update, so there's another chap before this! Don't miss it :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!

THE NEGOTIATOR

It might qualify as the strangest thing that Ahsoka had ever seen. 

First of all, her Master and Master Obi-Wan had been practicing fighting while holding hands. 

That, in itself, was very weird. 

What was even weirder was that as soon as they finished destroying a training droid and let go of each other’s hands, _Anakin had just disappeared_. Then, about thirty seconds later, he came running in from down the hallway, grinning!

Ahsoka’d had enough. She dropped her head down from the ventilation shaft into the otherwise empty gym and asked loudly, “What was that?”

They both jumped and looked up at her, looked back at each other, and then looked back at her again. They were so in sync sometimes it was _creepy_. She climbed out of the vent and then dropped down to the ground, landing lightly and walking closer. 

“Hey, Snips.” Anakin ran a hand over the back of his head, sheepishly. “I’ve been… I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“You were supposed to tell her earlier today, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sounded exasperated and Ahsoka tried hard not to smile. “We talked about this. You cannot avoid conversations simply because they are hard.”

“Yes, Master, I know.” Anakin said, a little guilty. “We just got distracted fixing that junker from Teth and then suddenly it was way too late for Ahsoka to be awake and she _needed to_ _go to bed_.” Anakin said the last few words more emphatically, as if he were just then remembering the time. His eyes narrowed. “It’s the middle of the night, Ahsoka, what the kriff are you doing in the ventilation shafts?” She cringed.

“Language, Padawan,” Obi-Wan chided. Ahsoka could have sworn his eyes actually twinkled slightly before refocusing on her, growing more serious. “The question is a good one, however. What were you doing up there?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Ahsoka shrugged. The entire ship vibrated constantly around her, and she wasn’t used to it. “I was just exploring, I figured I had enough time before we reached Ryloth. Waxer and Boil showed me how to get in the vents and drew me a little map.” She held up the back of her hand with the smudged drawing on it. “How did you disappear and reappear, though?” She wasn’t letting this go. It was _weird_. 

Her Master and Master Obi-Wan were the best, but just _weird._ She didn't understand why they hadn't let her watch the negotiations earlier, it was amazing how Jabba had sided with the Republic! She wanted to know how to do that. Obi-Wan was so good at negotiating. The Force had trembled a little, but she hadn't been sure why. Things were _so weird._

“Well…” Anakin began, and then stopped. Ahsoka studied his face, trying to understand his expression. She tentatively tried using their new teaching bond and reached out with the Force for his feelings. At this distance, his anxiety hit her like a hydrospanner to the face, and she recoiled, pulling back as hard as she could. 

“Sorry!” Anakin’s eyes widened and Obi-Wan sighed. Anakin said, “I just… I cannot stress enough how important it is that you tell no one about this. Not even other Jedi.” He grimaced apologetically. “Especially not other Jedi.”

“Why?” Ahsoka didn’t like the sound of that.

“It could get us in quite a bit of trouble,” Obi-Wan said, his tone serious. “It is essential that you know about it, though, as you will doubtless see it happen a lot.”

“See what happen?” She furrowed her brows, still not following. “Why would teleporting get you in trouble? How can you even teleport? I didn’t even think that was a real thing.”

“It’s not quite teleporting…” Anakin said awkwardly. “It’s our Force bond.”

Ahsoka felt even more confused. “You two still have a teaching bond?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said bluntly. Ahsoka’s eyes widened and she nervously toyed with the end of one of her lekku. That was _not done._ He continued, “It is much stronger than any normal teaching bond, and it was not possible for us to break.”

“Too strong to break?” Ahsoka looked between their faces. “Is…” She swallowed, not knowing how to say what she wanted to say. She was fourteen! She wasn’t a baby. She knew _some_ things. “Is that part of why you were holding hands?” The reaction was immediate from both.

Anakin blanched and said, “No! That is NOT part—”

Obi-Wan laughed and said, “I suppose it is part—”

They broke off at the same time and looked at each other, back at her, and then back at each other. Ahsoka watched fascinated as Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and Anakin’s eyes widened, jerking his head towards her slightly. 

Obi-Wan sighed and looked at Ahsoka again. “Our Force bond is simply strong enough that the Force will periodically connect Anakin and I across space.” 

“Across... space?” Ahsoka repeated faintly. Obi-Wan nodded.

Anakin explained rapidly. “We can perceive and touch each other like we’re standing next to each other, even while being in two different places. We can be from the length of the ship to many parsecs apart, we don’t actually know the maximum range yet.” Ahsoka felt her jaw drop a little. 

“Parsecs?” Anakin nodded, synchronizing with Obi-Wan’s body language again. This was all _the weirdest thing ever_. 

“Physical contact brings us through to the other side for the duration we are touching,” Anakin explained. “That’s why we were holding hands. To practice fighting as a unit. If I could have brought Obi-Wan over while engaging Dooku on Tatooine, I could have defeated him.” He frowned sulkily. “I could have anyway.”

“Yes, you probably could have.” Obi-Wan said appeasingly, and Ahsoka suppressed a smile. “However, the point stands that you did not.” She giggled.

“I know.” Anakin gave her a disapproving look and then sighed, clenching his mechanical fist. “I did not.” Ahsoka saw him give Obi-Wan a significant glance. She didn’t understand.

“No other Jedi know about this at all?” Ahsoka asked, needing clarification. “Why not?”

Anakin made a face. “It’s… it’s a serious violation of the Code. The section on non-attachment, specifically.” Obi-Wan nodded seriously.

“Oh,” Ahsoka said, looking between their faces. “I guess I can see that?” 

“Yes, the consequences would be quite severe if the rest of the Council were to find out about it,” Obi-Wan said. “Which is why we cannot allow it to be known, Ahsoka.”

She felt offended at his warning tone. “I won’t tell anybody!”

“Not even Master Yoda, if he asks for anything… _weird?”_

Ahsoka swallowed and shook her head. _Had Master Obi-Wan heard her thoughts?_ She spoke awkwardly, looking at Anakin for validation. “No? I wouldn’t… I won’t tell Master Yoda.” She looked back at Obi-Wan, his face was still neutral. 

At his silence she continued, “He and I don’t talk much anyway, so I don’t imagine that will be much of a problem, really, it’s pretty unlikely that I would even… umm… talk to him.” She finished lamely. Obi-Wan finally smiled at her, and she felt a ball of stress release. 

“Good,” Obi-Wan said. “Thank you, young one. Our lives could be in your hands.”

“Lives?” Ahsoka felt her eyes widen. “They would kill you? For having such a strong bond?”

Obi-Wan and Anakin made eye contact again. Obi-Wan shrugged one shoulder and said, “Probably not.”

She opened her mouth to ask another question and Anakin frowned at her. “You really need to be in bed, asleep, Snips.”

“Alright,” she grumbled. “Fine. I’ll go to bed.” They nodded at her in sync and looked expectant, so she turned sharply and stalked away, heading to her bunk. 

_So weird._

—

“That went well,” Obi-Wan said mildly to Ahsoka’s retreating back. “I can’t imagine how it could have gone better. Perhaps if she’d been warned in advance.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Anakin ran a hand over his face. “I just didn’t know how to tell her and make sure she understood that it was really important that it be kept a secret. She’s fourteen.”

“Yes, she is.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Very much so.”

“She did very well against the MagnaGuards!” Anakin felt suddenly defensive. He’d known her for all of two long days, but she was still his Padawan. “She’s an amazing fighter for being so little.”

Obi-Wan smiled at him. “She is an amazing fighter, Anakin. She is wonderful. I was not criticizing _her_ at all, merely her age.”

“Right,” Anakin said, shoulders lowering slightly. “Fourteen is not good.”

“No, it’s not.” Obi-Wan said. “If I wasn’t absolutely certain that she _needs_ to know, I would have tried to keep it away from her.”

“Hey!” Anakin scowled. “No mind tricks on my Padawan.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and turned towards the door, walking quickly. 

“Not unless necessary, Anakin.” Obi-Wan spoke waspishly. “I don’t make it a habit to use the Force on younglings.” Anakin huffed in frustration and followed after him, shaking his head.

“I didn’t mean that you do generally, only that you shouldn’t do it to her specifically.”

“I said I wouldn’t unless necessary, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was hard. “That statement will not change.” 

“You mind trick me all the time,” Anakin said, resentful. “It’s reasonable for me to be concerned, alright?”

“Not all the time—” Obi-Wan began and Anakin glared. Obi-Wan continued, “You know very well that our relationship is different.”

“Well, I don’t like it very much!” Anakin wished he sounded less like he was whining and more like he was making a very valid and reasonable argument, which he was.

“It is a pity,” Obi-Wan said, voice cooling off. “It’s truly a pity that I’ve needed to.”

“That’s not…” Anakin sighed and looked at the floor. “Fine. Just don’t mess with Ahsoka.”

“I was never going to _mess with_ her, Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s voice grew even more frigid. “You know the stakes as well as I do.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said quietly. “I know, alright? I’m sorry. I just want to protect her.”

“From me? Splendid.” Obi-Wan snapped. “I’m gratified to know you consider me a threat.” Obi-Wan kept silent the last bit of corridor to his room and opened his door, his voice level again. “I am very tired. I am going to sleep.”

“Great,” Anakin said, stepping to follow him. “Sleep would be nice.”

“Yes, it will be,” Obi-Wan said, and closed the door in his face.

_Kriff_.

—

Obi-Wan stared at the closed door until Anakin’s angry and confused Force signature moved away. Then Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face and turned to face his empty room.

He _was_ using mind tricks too much. Anakin was _right_. 

Obi-Wan’s chest felt tight. He wished he could go back and redo that last conversation, but knew he couldn’t. Anakin was _right_. He sighed and raised a hand, accessing the dark side slightly to wake the holocron. It was too easy.

“You look ill,” Darth Solon said immediately.

Obi-Wan scoffed. “Well spotted, I do feel sick. I’m using the dark side too much, Solon.” He sat on his bed and tossed his lightsaber towards his pillow. His hands were shaking slightly.

“Too much?” Solon looked skeptical. “I don’t understand.”

“Too frequently, for too little cause! Mind tricking Jabba was one thing, but I’ve been mind tricking my Padawan! I just almost mind tricked a _youngling_. Now that I’ve crossed the bright-line, there’s nothing preventing me from doing it all the time!” He kicked off his boots and sighed deeply in relief.

“Nothing except yourself and your judgement,” Solon said, watching the boots as they landed on the floor haphazardly. “Did you mind trick the youngling?”

“No,” Obi-Wan said heavily. “I didn’t. I’m not sure if it was because Anakin was there or if I wouldn’t have alone too. I’m just not sure.”

Solon sighed. “You cannot waste your time on hypotheticals. You did not, and that’s what matters.”

“I’m not sure,” Obi-Wan felt doubtful. “The inclination matters, the habit matters.” 

“A habit is still one decision at a time,” Solon said dismissively. “You have to measure each moment by its need, or else you will lose sight of how things really are. You are focusing on how things _should be_ again.”

“It’s good to have standards.” Obi-Wan dropped his armor piece by piece. “It’s good to have values. It used to be important to me that I keep my mind inside my own mind. It’s not, anymore. That’s different, and that’s concerning.”

“Your _values_ ,” Solon said the word like it was a profanity, “Your _values_ would permit a situation to slide into ruin, because you are too afraid to act! You are just like the rest of the Council.”

“It’s not fear!” Obi-Wan argued. “It’s not that I’m afraid. I just don’t want to be the sort of person whose first reaction to a surprise is to edit other people’s reactions.”

“I’m afraid you really won’t have much of a choice, Σιθαρίς.”

“ _Sitharis_ , what the _kriff_ does that mean, Solon?” Obi-Wan had never been quite so tempted to throw the holocron against the wall. “I am so tired of this.” 

Solon was quiet for a long moment, as if processing Obi-Wan’s question. Eventually he said, “It’s a title, it’s not directly translatable. You will never be able to hear it clearly. There were _steps_ that must have been taken before one could have been initiated into the Mysteries. The proper pronunciation is closer to _Sith’ari_ in basic. The ’s’ at the end is more of a sibilant breathing notation, and should not be emphasized.”

“Helpful.” Obi-Wan ground his teeth. “Is that it? Is that all you’re going to tell me?”

“I’m not sure I should say more!” Solon spit out. “I’ve made mistakes before.”

“Mistakes?” Obi-Wan studied the holocron’s flickering face. He saw regret there, which was extremely unusual. “How can a holocron make mistakes?”

“Telling the wrong information to the wrong person at the wrong time—that is a large and often _unredeemable_ mistake.” Solon frowned deeper. “This is why it might _not_ have been wrong to mind trick the youngling. If you need to withhold truly dangerous information, you should.”

“Of course you would think mind tricking a youngling is acceptable.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Do you have any limits on your behavior? Is there anything you wouldn’t do?” 

Solon just crossed his arms and frowned. “I’m the gatekeeper of a holocron, not a person. Darth Solon himself did not have limits. You must not either.”

Obi-Wan scowled at him. “How is the meaning of an old Sith title dangerous information, anyway?” He raised an eyebrow and asked pointedly, “ _I’m_ the wrong person to know what you’ve been calling _me?”_

“Not the wrong person,” Solon said. “It’s the wrong time.”

“Well then you shouldn’t have kriffing used _yet!”_ Obi-Wan growled, and then swallowed and fixed his breathing. “You should have _withheld_ the entire thing. You can’t just give me fragments and expect me to accept it! You are driving me insane.”

“Fine!” Solon snapped. “Fine.” He was quiet for another moment. “Sith’ari means something similar to ‘One Who Was Chosen.’” He did not explain further.

“ _That’s it?_ That’s what was so dangerous for me to know?” Obi-Wan said, his heart rate slowing. He shook his head in denial. “You’re mistaken anyway. I’m not the Chosen One. Anakin is.”

Solon shook his head back. “The Jedi are wrong about the prophecy. He is something else entirely. He is not the Chosen One. He is the One Who Chooses.”

Obi-Wan sat in silence for a long time, trying to understand. “Is that what Midichlor means?”

“No.” Solon said and crossed his arms, closing his mouth. Obi-Wan gave him a dirty look and he unwillingly continued. “The nearest approximation in Basic of ‘Midichlor’ is ‘Force-Incarnate.’ The Midichlor has had many titles, many names. One can occur in almost all cultures, unfortunately.”

“Force-Incarnate?” Obi-Wan spoke slowly. He was processing. “One can occur? Unfortunately? What do you mean? What is Anakin?”

“He’s human. Mostly.” Solon seemed to be debating something internally. “Has he ever talked about his father?”

Obi-Wan was taken aback by the question. “No… Master Qui-Gon told me that there was no father. That he was a vergence in the Force.”

“And you did not find that interesting or strange? Why were you not more curious about a human conceiving without intercourse?”

“I always thought she was just…” Obi-Wan frowned. “She was a slave. She could have been assaulted.”

“True, but not applicable in this case. She was telling the truth. His amount of power in the living Force is _not actually possible_ for a naturally conceived sentient. It requires direct input of energy from the Force itself. Anakin is truly a child of the Force. He is both more and less than human.”

“How is that possible?” Obi-Wan frowned. He had never heard of anything like this before. “That doesn’t make any biological sense.” 

“As far as we know, a Midichlor is created by the living Force in response to…” Solon trailed off, searching for words. He continued, looking oddly tentative. “In response to an _event_ that produces a shockwave of pure darkness in the Force. A shockwave of pure _will-to-life_. The child born is the echo of the _will-to-life_ that tried and failed to match the spike of suffering released into the Force by this event.” Solon paused and evaluated Obi-Wan’s face.

“What event, Solon?” Obi-Wan asked. “What don’t you want to tell me?”

Solon sighed and looked away. “It’s usually when a Force sensitive female desperately tries to survive being raped to death over the course of weeks. That amount of struggle to survive, to endure, to live—it’s pure emotion, pure darkness. It causes the vergence in the Force that ripples down her entire timeline. Her son is born of the energy she spent in her failed struggle for self-preservation. He is born of her righteous, futile darkness.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, horrified. “Anakin was born because his mother died like that?”

Solon nodded once. “As far as Sith research could discover. This is _mostly_ theoretical. They are very rare, thankfully, and so are not well understood. The theory is that causality is not unidirectional within the Force.” Obi-Wan made a skeptical face and Solon shrugged. “The phenomenon was thought to parallel how bodies heal themselves. If you accept the analogy, he is an autoimmune response of the Force, born to soothe the disturbance and restore balance. The profound disturbance of his mother’s death in the fabric of the living Force triggered a healing feedback cycle, and her child was the result.”

“The Sith researched this?” Obi-Wan grimaced. “How?”

“The Sith are very interested in people born from pure darkness.” Solon’s voice was dry. “The blood, sweat, and tears of a Midichlor are also key reagents in very powerful Sith alchemical spells. They are very useful apprentices to have.” Solon nodded like it was the end of a lesson. “That’s what a Midichlor is.” 

“ _Force_.” Obi-Wan exhaled and stared blankly at the wall. Obi-Wan noticed he never explained _how_ the Sith knew these things, but had suspicion that he really did not want to know. He refocused on the key implication. “They’re coming after Anakin for sure, then.”

“He is very powerful,” Solon said vaguely. “It is essential you keep him safe and loyal.”

“Loyal?” Obi-Wan didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Why?”

“He is the One Who Chooses, remember. He needs an anchor, and will always seek one. He can be easily misled, you know this.” Solon raised an eyebrow and Obi-Wan nodded reluctantly. “His power could be stolen and misused.”

“Stolen?” Obi-Wan felt a surge of something hot and possessive.

Solon nodded, looking almost wistful. “It already has been once, you know. He truly belonged with his mother; they were one flesh. He was born to help her. The Jedi removed him and left her in bondage. The Jedi are the ones who split that particular atom. It’s up to you now to deal with the fallout, or Darth Sidious will use his power for his own ends.”

Solon abruptly turned himself off, and Obi-Wan stared numbly at the black pyramid.

_What the kriff._

—

Anakin was in a bad mood. Alone in his assigned cabin, he had changed for sleep on autopilot and was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall. Obi-Wan had locked him out. Obi-Wan didn’t want him around. Obi-Wan wanted to sleep alone. Anakin tried to refocus on the war, on his responsibilities, on his new Padawan. He hadn’t meant that Obi-Wan was a threat to her. _He hadn’t._

He looked up sharply at the sound of a knock on his door. Obi-Wan’s Force presence was outside, a mix of feelings that Anakin couldn’t read. His confusion overrode his anger, and Anakin slid off the bed to open the door. 

Obi-Wan was dressed for sleep, but had pulled his boots on. He looked strange, just wearing his undershirt and pants in the hall of the Star Destroyer, no tabards or robes. Anakin couldn’t believe he’d come to his room like that. Obi-Wan’s face was neutral, but Anakin could see regret in his eyes. It all made Anakin feel warm. He still kept his voice curt. “Yes?”

“May I come in?” Obi-Wan asked carefully.

“Yes.” Anakin stood aside and let him enter. “What do you want?”

“To apologize,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin felt a sudden release of tension, and closed the door. He sat heavily on his bed and examined Obi-Wan as he leaned against the small desk near the door. He looked tired. Obi-Wan broke the growing silence, his voice gentle. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, pushed you away. I was defensive. I know what you meant. About the mind tricks.”

“You do?” Anakin asked, tentative. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m struggling with it, Anakin.” Anakin frowned. The words didn’t make sense. 

“What do you mean?” Anakin studied his face and realized that Obi-Wan was letting him see that he was afraid. Anakin felt a wave of concern and reached out with the Force. Obi-Wan reached back, and Anakin felt his fear and regret. They communicated in the bond for a moment, mixing and sharing their feelings and coming back into a mutual understanding. Anakin sighed in relief. 

Obi-Wan admitted, “I find the dark to be lingering nearby, closer than it ever has been. It is becoming easier to touch it.”

“Really?” Anakin frowned. He hadn’t known that was happening to Obi-Wan too. Ever since Tatooine, his own darkness seemed to build faster and grow larger.

Obi-Wan sighed. “I think taking in your darkness is making me feel my own emotions much more strongly.” Anakin felt a spike of guilt. Obi-Wan continued ruefully, “It’s lucky we’re so often deployed on assignment. I’m worried about the day that I can no longer hide who I am from the rest of the Council. Seeing Yoda directly after everything on Tatooine was incredibly risky.”

“Your Force signature is never dark, though,” Anakin said uncertainly. “I’ve never felt a hint of it.”

“That is comforting,” Obi-Wan acknowledged. “But you are not necessarily the best judge. It is unclear if our bond is altering your perception.”

“I guess.” Anakin sighed. Obi-Wan pushed off the desk and stepped closer, moving slowly to stand between Anakin’s legs and looking down at him. Anakin opened his legs slightly wider to make room, and looked up at Obi-Wan, trying to read his face. 

“I am truly sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, reaching up a hand and resting his palm against Anakin’s cheek. His thumb stroked lightly and Anakin leaned into the touch. “I panicked.”

“It’s alright, Master.” Anakin said, realizing that it really was. His voice carried his empathy. “I really understand.”

“You do?” Obi-Wan smiled. “I suppose you do.” He kissed him gently, his hand sliding from Anakin’s cheek back into his hair, pulling Anakin’s face close. Anakin kissed him back, reassuring him. His hands slid up to Obi-Wan’s back, pulling him even closer, falling into the feeling of Obi-Wan’s mouth moving gently against his own.

Obi-Wan pulled his head back slightly and looked into Anakin’s eyes. Anakin affectionately pushed his head back into Obi-Wan’s grip in his hair. Obi-Wan smiled faintly and scratched his head. Anakin melted slightly. Obi-Wan kissed his forehead and pulled back with a sigh. “I will protect Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan said in a low voice. He swallowed and promised seriously, “I will never harm her.”

“I know you won’t,” Anakin said. “You never harm me either.” He clenched his jaw and looked down, taking a deep breath. Anakin admitted quietly, “I think I need it sometimes. I get so angry that I get confused. I need help thinking clearly.”

“I know you do, dearest one.” Obi-Wan’s voice was very gentle. He cupped Anakin’s face and kissed his forehead again. “I’m looking out for you.” Anakin looked up and Obi-Wan kissed him on the temple and the cheek before whispering in his ear seriously, “I’m trying as hard as I can to help. I’m not trying to hurt you.” He began to kiss down Anakin’s neck.

“You are helping,” Anakin sighed, tilting his head back to present his throat. Obi-Wan sucked lightly on his pulse point, and Anakin whimpered, “This is all so hard.” 

Obi-Wan pulled back and smiled at him. “It is the hardest thing we’ve ever done, but we’re doing it together, right?” He took off his shirt, and his pants. Anakin watched him strip himself down, and smiled widely, pulling off his own shirt too.

“Yes,” Anakin said, the word _together_ suddenly filling him with happiness. Obi-Wan tugged at his pants and Anakin lifted his hips to help remove them. “We’re _together_. I had always been so afraid of being a Knight, of leaving you. The war is good, I guess.” Anakin laughed. “The Council would never assign us together so much otherwise, right?”

“Probably not,” Obi-Wan agreed, sliding his hands down Anakin’s chest, feeling his pectorals and running his thumbs over his nipples. Anakin sucked in a loud breath. Obi-Wan murmured, “I do use my position on the Council to advocate for assignments with you.” He leaned in and licked and sucked one of Anakin’s nipples, making Anakin’s hips jerk. Obi-Wan smiled against his skin and switched to the other side, biting gently and sucking hard, leaving a purple mark. Anakin felt a rush of pleasure at being marked. He loved being Obi-Wan’s.

Anakin felt like he was glowing. “You do? You ask to be with me?” Obi-Wan’s mouth traveled lower, sucking a row of purple marks down Anakin’s stomach. Anakin felt like his cock had never been harder, and then Obi-Wan kneeled in front of him, speaking up at him, looking up at him. Anakin felt dizzy with all the blood rushing out of his head. He whimpered.

“Of course I do, Anakin.” Obi-Wan shook his head and smiled. “Why did you think I wanted to be on the Council so very badly?” He ran a hand along Anakin’s hard cock and squeezed gently.

“Sith intel,” Anakin panted as if the answer was obvious. His eyes were fixed on Obi-Wan’s mouth as it lowered and he groaned loudly when Obi-Wan sucked the tip of his cock into his mouth. Obi-Wan’s tongue swept in a circle as he sucked, and Anakin groaned again. Obi-Wan pulled his head back.

“Not really,” Obi-Wan said playfully, smiling wider. “I only wanted more power to stay close to you.” Anakin moaned as Obi-Wan’s wet, warm mouth swallowed his cock again. Obi-Wan’s lips slid down the length, stopping when the tip of Anakin’s cock the back of his throat.

Anakin’s eyes fluttered closed and he whined. “Really?” Obi-Wan hummed around his cock and Anakin thrust involuntarily, his eyes opening wide in apology and Obi-Wan just sent him a wave of acceptance over the bond. Anakin gripped the blankets hard, the bond and Obi-Wan’s wet mouth on his cock were making his head swim.

Obi-Wan slid his mouth up and down Anakin’s cock slowly a few more times, his hand coming up to stroke his balls, and then he leaned back to breathe. “Yes, really.” Anakin leaned down and grabbed Obi-Wan’s head, tilting it up and kissed him hard. 

“Please, I don’t want to come yet,” Anakin said against his lips. “Please, _Master_ , I want…” His voice trailed off.

“How do you want me, dearest?” Obi-Wan asked, in one motion standing up and pushing Anakin further back onto the bed, crawling over him. Obi-Wan looked down at him and asked, “How do you want it?”

Anakin blushed, his eyes flicking between Obi-Wan’s. He liked it when Obi-Wan decided. He liked not making choices. He liked when Obi-Wan was happy. That was his favorite thing. It seemed like it would make Obi-Wan happy for him to choose. He projected, _“I… Can I sit? On you?”_ He sent an image across the bond. Obi-Wan smiled. 

“We can do that.” His hand slid down to brush a finger along Anakin’s tight entrance. “You’re not ready yet, though.”

“I know,” Anakin’s blush got deeper. “I have plenty of lube. I want to…” He looked down and sent the rest on the bond. _“I want to adjust around you.”_

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and said, “Fine. Do it the unpleasant way. Where is it?” He sat down, pushing his back against the wall and patting his thigh. Anakin summoned it with the Force and handed over the small bottle. Obi-Wan dispensed a large amount onto his hand and began rubbing his own hard cock, Anakin watching fascinated. He loved watching his Master rub his own cock, watching his Master please himself. “Come here and turn around.”

Anakin hastened to obey, moving so he was sitting with this back to Obi-Wan’s chest, hovering on his knees over Obi-Wan’s cock. His blush increased dramatically when he realized Obi-Wan had intentionally sat opposite the open ‘fresher door with line of sight to the mirror. He moaned when he realized Obi-Wan wanted him to watch himself get fucked, and then moaned louder when Obi-Wan gently began using his slick fingers to spread the lube around his entrance. 

When Obi-Wan pressed his slick fingers into him slightly, Anakin protested loudly. Obi-Wan laughed as he swatted him, saying, “Fine, you do it all. I tried to help.” He put even more lube on his cock and then used one hand to guide Anakin’s hips down and the other to line up the tip of his cock, barely brushing his sensitive skin. Obi-Wan released his hip and said roughly, “Take what you want. Fuck yourself on my cock, Padawan.” Anakin felt like his face was burning up, and he met his own eyes in the mirror. 

“Thank you, Master,” he said in a shaky voice. He looked away from his flushed cheeks and down at his own hard cock, and spread his legs wider, pressing down and whimpering when he felt how very hard Obi-Wan’s cock was, how much he wanted Anakin to do this, how much he liked what Anakin was doing. 

Anakin lowered himself down slightly, letting the tip push in. He whined at the stretch and paused, Obi-Wan’s hand grasping his hip hard but not moving him at all. He heard Obi-Wan’s breath hitch and the echo of his desire in the bond. Anakin circled his hips slightly, stretching himself and pushing down a little more.

Obi-Wan slid his slick hand around to Anakin’s cock, beginning to stroke him gently, his voice was a low murmur behind Anakin’s ear that made his heart beat even faster, “Very good, Anakin, take more, you can take more, please, Padawan, please move.” 

Anakin lowered himself a bit more, a slight twinge of pain making him pause and then groan loudly as all his focus remained at the spot of the pain even after the pain turned into pleasure, and all his attention was filled by the feeling of Obi-Wan’s hard cock. His mind was buzzing and he couldn’t think of anything else. Anakin fucked himself down harder in response, seeking more of that stimulation. 

Obi-Wan groaned in relief and Anakin smiled widely. He spread his legs a bit more, opening himself further, pressing his hips back and down, taking as much as he could. Obi-Wan said gratefully, “So good, very good, darling, yes, thank you.” Anakin began to raise himself up and down slightly, realizing that he still had inches left to take. 

The feeling of Obi-Wan’s hand moving on his cock and his other hand coming up to gently hold and stroke his balls was so good, the pleasure was so distracting. He spread his legs wider, opening himself up more and sliding down again, harder. Obi-Wan’s voice was low and fervent. “Nearly there, Padawan, you’ve nearly taken it, you’re doing so well.”

Anakin took a deep breath and then rocked back and down hard, taking it all, his hips finally meeting Obi-Wan’s. He looked forward at the mirror and realized that he was making eye contact with Obi-Wan. He whined and jerked his hips. Obi-Wan’s grip on his cock tightened and he stroked harder, his wrist twisting slightly. Anakin groaned, _“E chu ta_ , Master, that’s so good, it feels so good.” He bounced slightly, changing the angle before fucking back again and feeling Obi-Wan’s cock press against a place that made him cry out. He slid up and back down hard, beginning to rock his hips deliberately, chasing that spot, that feeling.

“You’re doing so well, Anakin,” Obi-Wan panted. “You feel so good to me, so good around my cock, so good for me.” Anakin whimpered at the praise, trying to both fuck himself back onto Obi-Wan’s cock and into Obi-Wan’s hand. “Do you know how good you are?” Anakin whined and shook his head, staring at Obi-Wan’s intense blue eyes in the mirror. 

Obi-Wan kissed the side of his neck, and murmured into this skin, keeping eye contact in the mirror as Anakin rocked on his lap. “You are perfect, Anakin, you try so hard, and you mean so well, you do so much good, I see it, I promise, Padawan, I notice.” Anakin gasped and whined, it felt so good, his rhythm was growing sloppy. Obi-Wan abruptly pulled his hands off Anakin’s cock and Anakin made a loud noise of protest, his own hands quickly replacing Obi-Wan’s, speeding up and squeezing himself tighter. 

Obi-Wan slid his hands under Anakin’s thighs and hooked his legs with his elbows, pulling Anakin’s back against his chest, opening him wider and holding him still. Anakin whined as Obi-Wan began to thrust his hips up slowly, speaking lowly, “You look so good like this, do you see yourself? Do you see yourself taking me so well?” 

Anakin let out a shaky breath, eyes moving down to where Obi-Wan’s cock was sliding in and out of him. Anakin nodded desperately, moving his hand fast on his cock, drawing himself closer and closer. Obi-Wan bit Anakin’s shoulder hard as he began to fuck up into him harder and then said, “I want you to watch yourself come, Anakin, Padawan, look at yourself,” Obi-Wan’s words had become an order. Anakin obeyed, unthinkingly, looking at himself in the mirror, so close to coming, so very close. 

Obi-Wan murmured in approval and fixed his grip on Anakin’s legs, spreading him open completely and began fucking up fast and hard, driving his cock over and over into Anakin, thrusting against the spot that made Anakin cry out with pleasure. Obi-Wan’s firm grip on his body and the fast, sudden rhythm of his cock driving in hard against him pushed Anakin over the edge, and he groaned, his eyes rolling back, pleasure crackling through him as he spilled his come into his hands.

“Put your fingers in my mouth,” Obi-Wan’s voice was rough. “That’s mine.” Anakin was still hazy with pleasure, lost in the waves of the Force. He shakily offered his come covered hand over his shoulder for Obi-Wan to suck, and moaned when he felt Obi-Wan begin to lick him clean. Obi-Wan groaned and slammed his hips up. Anakin felt in the Force as Obi-Wan came, their mutual pleasure pooling together, rebounding and reinforcing each other.

Anakin lost the strength and concentration to hold himself up and relaxed completely backward, his head tipped back loosely on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his fingers popping out of Obi-Wan’s mouth. Obi-Wan let Anakin’s legs down and wrapped his arms around his stomach, hugging Anakin tightly against his chest, his chin on Anakin’s shoulder. 

They breathed together for a long moment, intertwined in the Force, shared contentment eddying around them. Obi-Wan suddenly surrounded Anakin in the Force with his approval and acceptance, making Anakin go even more boneless, feeling his fears seep away. “Thank you, Master,” Anakin said thickly. “That’s nice.” Obi-Wan huffed a laugh into his neck and squeezed him once before pushing Anakin off and slipping out.

“I meant it, you know,” Obi-Wan said as he scooted off the bed toward the ‘fresher. Anakin looked up, frowning in confusion. Obi-Wan explained, “I will protect Ahsoka. I will not mess with her mind.”

“I know, Master,” Anakin nodded as he got up to follow to clean himself up too. “We’ll protect her together. She’s a good kid.”

“She really is.” Obi-Wan sighed. “I’ll protect you, too.”

“Thanks, Master.” Anakin smiled. “I’ll alway protect you first though, before you have to protect me. It’s my job.” He stepped in the shower and Obi-Wan followed him in. 

Anakin suddenly realized he couldn’t read the expression on Obi-Wan’s face. It was blank again—it was the same as it had always been before Tatooine, before Anakin had known about the dreams, back when Obi-Wan was hiding something from him. Anakin frowned slightly.

“Thank you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, an emotion Anakin couldn’t place in his voice. “Do you promise?”

“Yes, of course I promise,” Anakin said seriously, trying to read his eyes. “I’ll always protect you first, Master.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan smiled warmly at him. “I promise too.”

Anakin nodded. He felt the certainty of their attachment settle in his chest like a knot being tied around his heart, a string pulling him tight towards his Master. They felt connected. They felt like one. Anakin smiled.

“Thank you, Master.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, dear.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed and the non-canon stuff didn't hit wrong.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Might be abt a week until next chap is up :)
> 
> Say hi on [tumblr](https://intermundia.tumblr.com)!


	10. Respect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Welcome to the next chap of LT. Thanks for reading and commenting, I appreciate it so much and hope that the story continues be fun even if stuff is heavy :)
> 
> Giving a 14-year-old command over a squadron, what could possibly go wrong?

THE RESOLUTE

Late 22BBY

Rex was sitting in the near-empty mess staring at his rations when Axe rushed in. The sudden clamor at the door made him look up sharply. It’s rare to see that much hustle without a damn good reason. It took Rex a moment to realize that everything was alright.

Axe had his bucket off, and was smiling and holding something in his arms. He was being trailed by about ten brothers, who all looked gleeful. “The box came, captain!” 

Rex felt a leap of excitement. More than alright, this is something _good_. The little Commander had done excellent work on Christophsis and Teth, but it was unbelievable what the Jedi had let her wear into battle. He grinned. “Let’s go find her.”

They found Commander Tano in the largest gym, where she was occupying most of the sparring area while drilling with her lightsaber. Rex watched, appreciating the skill with which she spun the blade. He figured he’d slice himself in half in a second if he tried.

“Can we interrupt, sir?” Rex asked.

“Sure!” Tano chirped and deactivated her saber, looking at him curiously. “What’s in the box, Rex?”

“Well, it’s for you, sir.” Rex held the box out stiffly, and Tano took it with wide eyes. “Take a look.”

She quickly set it on the ground and looked inside. “It’s armor?” Tano sounded both excited and confused. “Isn’t your armor too big for me?” 

“Try it on, Commander, it’s not standard issue,” Axe said encouragingly. “It came with the resupply, sir.”

“It did?” Tano wrinkled her forehead in confusion. “How? Why?”

“Well.” Rex and Axe looked at each other guilty. “Wingtip actually ordered it back on Christophsis, sir. He said it was very urgent.”

The Commander’s voice was small, her eyes were wide. Rex noticed that the color of her head-tails was getting darker. _Was that how Togruta blushed?_ “He ordered armor for me?” 

Rex thought she sounded very young. He remembered being seven, so he figured it was about the same. It was a confusing time. He smiled reassuringly. “Of course, little Commander, you can’t go into battle dressed like you’re going to a party.” She scoffed. Rex continued with a smile, “He made the call just after checking into base when you first arrived.”

“I need to be able to move.” Tano explained herself apologetically, before she suddenly did a series of backflips and splits. Rex blinked. The Commander was so fast that his eyes had trouble tracking her. It was uncanny speed, relative to what a human could do. Rex remembered reading that Togruta could only eat meat, that they were predators. She flipped back over and landed proudly. “I need to be agile!”

“General Skywalker wears armor, sir,” Rex said placatingly. “So does General Kenobi.” He muttered, “Why they didn’t get you any is a whole separate question.”

“Try it on, at least, Skipper.” Axe said winningly. Rex wanted to roll his eyes. Axe and his stupid nicknames. 

“Oh, alright!” The Commander smiled widely. “I like presents. What first?” She started rummaging around.

“First, the bodysuit.” Rex said. “We had to guess measurements so it might need to be adjusted, but that is the base layer, sir.”

Tano pulled it out and held it up. It was definitely much smaller than the trooper blacks. Her forehead wrinkled speculatively before she nodded once and hopped up. “Be right back!” 

She darted off to the ‘fresher, and Rex suddenly realized that the crowd of brothers clustering around had multiplied several times. It looked like everyone off-duty was slowly beginning to accumulate. He shook his head and raised a brow at Axe who shrugged. “I don’t know who told.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rex said. “It would have gotten out somehow.”

“Probably,” Axe chuckled. “The rest of Torrent Company is going to be so mad they weren’t here.”

Rex smirked. “Too bad for them.” 

“How do I look?” Commander Tano’s girlish voice made him start. He noticed the same reaction in almost everyone around him and wanted to laugh. She was looking herself over. “I think it fits!” 

Rex looked her up and down, the black material clung tightly to slender arms and legs. _She was so little!_ He repressed a smile. “Yep! You look like a brother, sir.”

“Do I really?” Tano grinned and did a backflip. “I like this material, it’s really stretchy and comfy for being _tactical_.” She did another flip and some boys in the back cheered. She waved at them and asked, “Where did you get all this stuff?”

Axe shrugged. “One of the supply officers is good friends with their Republic counterpart, sir. They got it added to the resupply budget and specially printed, I think.”

“Nice work!” Tano smiled widely at him, and Rex could have sworn Axe blushed. “They did amazing, it fits perfectly!”

“That’s just phase one, Commander,” Rex said. “Let’s go bottom to top. Try on the kneepads and boots, sir.”

She nodded and rummaged around in the box. “What are they made of? I thought it would be heavier.” She wrapped her knuckles against a white kneepad.

“It’s a lightweight plastoid-alloy composite, sir,” Axe said smoothly. Rex nodded. All of the clones were a bit obsessive about their armor. 

“Okay!” The Commander said, shrugging. She slid on the kneepads and the boots and did a few lunges. “They fit, but the boots are a little bit too big. I’ll have to wear extra socks!” She said the last part like it was a feature, not a bug.

“We’ll take your exact measurements and get you fitted up right, Commander,” Rex said quickly, making eye contact with Axe who nodded. “These are just until we have more time.”

Tano did a speculative backflip and landed carefully, testing the feeling of the kneepads. She did another one much faster, nodded sharply, and smiled. “These will work.” 

Rex nodded back and smiled. “Utility belt next, sir.”

“Alright,” Tano said happily. She frowned briefly at the fastener before clicking it on. “It’s a little big, can I make it any smaller?”

“That’s because it’s not all the way fitted, sir. There’s a secondary adjustment location in the back, here.” Rex pointed to his own back and she reached around to feel behind, her eyes narrowing as she found the cinch. Her eyes lit up in triumph. “There you go, sir.”

“Thanks, Rex!” Tano chirped, patting her sides and opening flaps. “Look at all these pockets!”

“There are advantages to wearing tactical gear, Skipper.” Axe said dryly. 

Several brothers laughed and the Commander laughed too. “I get it, I get it!” She began pawing through the box again. “What’s next?“

“Chest and back plate, sir.” Rex bent to help her grab the right pieces, and she looked at him gratefully as he pointed, “These ones, Commander.”

“Why do I have to wear these?” Tano asked as she wriggled to get her head-tails through the neck hole. 

Rex smiled, watching her struggle. It was very cute. “They protect against blaster bolts to the heart and lungs, sir.”

Tano nodded gravely as she settled the white plastic to sit correctly on her shoulders. “That sounds good.”

“Yes, that is good, sir.” Rex smiled. “How does it feel?”

The Commander bent backwards and forwards, twisting and testing out the feel. “It’s really light, just like the boots.” She nodded. “I think it will work.”

“Good, sir.” Rex nodded and looked back at the box. “Now the shoulder pauldrons, both upper—” Rex pointed to the right piece. “—and lower.” He pointed again. “Then the gloves, then the gauntlets over top. The gauntlet can replace your comlink when you wear it, it has a wrist communicator built in.”

Tano wrinkled her forehead at the final pile of white plastic, eyes deliberative. “This seems like a lot.”

Rex shrugged, “Your arms are very important, sir.”

“I guess so,” Tano said and shrugged too. Axe helped her fasten the pieces in the correct order, and she listened to him explain the mechanisms with a serious expression on her face.

“There you go!” Axe said as he stepped back. Rex grinned. The Commander looked like a miniature General Kenobi mixed with a miniature trooper. 

Rex asked, “Can you move, sir?” 

The Commander began doing a series of flips and the crowd started cheering. 

“You got armor for my Padawan?”

The sound of General Skywalker’s curious voice made everyone jump. He’d been watching from the doorway. Rex wanted to facepalm. _How long had he been there?_ Instead he stood at attention with everyone else.

“Sir!” Rex said, nodding tentatively. “Yes, we did, General.”

Axe agreed, “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Rex. You too, Axe.” Skywalker’s voice sounded serious and guilty as he came over, so Rex relaxed slightly. They weren’t in trouble. “All of you. Thank you all so much.”

“Yeah, thank you!” Tano said too, an earnest expression on her face. “This is incredible.”

Rex began to feel warm inside. He saw that Axe was definitely blushing now. “No problem, sir.”

Tano grinned at General Skywalker before doing a series of handsprings. “It’s amazing! It’s so light!” 

Rex made eye contact with Axe and Axe nodded. 

Rex knelt to reach into the box. He said, “There’s just one more thing, sir, Commander.” He pulled out a small bottle of blue paint from the bottom of the box. He held it out, offering it to Tano. “You’re not a Shiny, sir.” 

Tano’s face radiated with joy. “I’m not?”

“No, sir, you took out clankers with the rest of us. You get some 501st blue.” She took the bottle reverently. The General smiled and nodded at him, his eyes glowing with pride. Rex smiled and said, “Tonight, when you’re alone, you can decide how to paint it.”

“Thank you, Rex.” Her eyes were huge. “Thank you so much.”

The General pulled his lightsaber and ignited it. Rex noticed brothers trying to climb and sit on top of the weight machines and the rowing machines, trying to find the best seat in the gym to watch the fight. Watching the _Jetiise_ spar was the best entertainment onboard. Skywalker grinned and swung his blade around dramatically. “Let’s spar, little Padawan.” 

“You’re on, Master!” Tano chuckled gleefully before beating on her chest, knuckles rapping on the plastic. “I’m INVINCIBLE!”

Rex sighed, satisfied, and turned to head to the bridge. He was still smiling as he wound his way out through the still-growing crowd of brothers.

Mission accomplished. Time to go break another blockade.

—

Ahsoka stared at the complex controls of the Aethersprite with a false smile on her face. The hanger was incredibly loud with the sound of ships being readied for battle. She shook her head slightly. She was about to have her first command of a squadron. They had given her _command_ of a _squadron._

 _Her. Ahsoka. Padawan. Fourteen._

Ahsoka had flown a real Aethersprite only twice before in practice. She’d logged thousands of hours in simulators back at the Temple, especially after the war began. But it was something else to be sitting in the real thing. She needed to make a good impression with this first command. 

_She had to do this right._

Arseven beeped at her inquisitively. She frowned. “Of course I’m not nervous.” She tapped her white gauntlet against the restraining belt. She hadn’t had time to paint yet, and hadn’t decided what she wanted. There was only so much paint… 

“Hey, Snips!” Anakin said cheerfully, jogging closer. Ahsoka looked up and swallowed. “This is it! Your first command.” He smiled encouragingly. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I wish everyone would stop saying that,” Ahsoka said in a low, fervent tone.

Anakin looked at her seriously, and she fought the urge to look down. His eyes were intense. “The men that you’re commanding are depending on you.” His gaze got even sharper. “With their lives.”

Ahsoka’s stomach dropped. “Thanks.” She turned and looked at the controls again and took a deep, shaky breath. “That sure takes the pressure off. If I wasn’t nervous before, I sure am now.” She looked back up at her Master, needing reassurance.

Anakin’s face softened, and his eyes were understanding. “Hey, I have faith in you.” He raised an eyebrow, kind of like how Master Kenobi did. “I wouldn’t send you out there if I didn’t think you could handle it.” He nodded once and turned to go, jogging back towards the lift to the bridge. 

He paused and looked back. “May the Force be with you.” 

Ahsoka dipped her head in thanks and said loudly, “I won’t let you down.” Anakin turned and left. To his back, she muttered, “I hope.” She began engaging systems and starting up her starfighter, finally activating her com. “Okay… You boys ready?”

“This is two, Axe, ready when you are, Skipper.” Axe’s reassuring voice came through. She absently tapped her gauntlet again, smiling at the nickname. She liked how it sounded much better than _Snips_. 

She listened as the rest checked in. There were fifteen pilots with her. She hadn’t spoken to most of them really, but some of the names stood out. Kickback had loaned his water canteen to her yesterday, she needed to give it back.

“Tucker on five, waiting for mother bird, over.” 

Ahsoka swallowed. _Mother bird_ , that’s her. She put her hands on the controls, and engaged. She led the group up and out of the hull, hurtling out into the black. She curled her ship around and accelerated directly towards the Separatist blockade. 

She took a shaky breath, looking up out of the cockpit windows. The planet Ryloth filled the background, a massive blur of brown, streaked with green. There was just something _different_ about flying a starfighter in space above a real planet that a simulator could never capture. The scale was different. _She felt so small._

Arseven was doing most of the technical flying work, but it was still partially in her hands, so she kept them steady. She checked her vector, all good. The Admiral’s polite voice came through the com. “Commander, you’re all clear.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Ahsoka replied, trying to add some confidence to her voice, “Keep the cruisers back until we’ve softened them up!” There was no reply, of course. She sighed. “Well, Arseven, are you ready for some action?”

Arseven whistled in agreement. Ahsoka smiled, her eyes fixing on their target. 

Now that her flight was underway, her nerves were vanishing—the adrenaline was intoxicating. She was flying in real space, about to fight with live weapons. She was in _so much danger,_ and it felt almost _good._

Ahsoka felt more and more confident that she could do this. She spoke decisively. “Axe, keep your squadron back and wait for my signal.”

“You got it, boss.” 

She nodded, evaluating the distance between the newly launched Separatists fighters and her ship. She searched her feelings, reaching out with the Force. Just a little longer… Let them get a little closer…

 _Now._

“Here we go, boys!” she called into the com and pressed all the way down on the accelerator, shooting impossibly fast towards the cluster of approaching vulture droids, the first group of her squad at her back. “Let’s clear a path!” 

Within a few heartbeats, the starfighters and the vulture droids met and crossed in the black, shooting past each other, weapons blazing. Ahsoka exhaled sharply, eyes sharp.

_The simulator never prepared her for how her heart would pound and her palms would sweat._

She began dodging rapidly, her hands gentle on the controls. She spun around lasers and dipped under droids, firing back aggressively, her starfighter always pointed forward—flying ever closer to the heart of the Separatist fleet. 

The chatter of the troopers provided a steady stream of data about the fight, with everyone calling out targets and problems. She listened with half attention, the rest of her focus dedicated to staying alive and destroying droids. 

Her hands twitched and she spun, helping out Axe with a tail before spinning back around and taking care of one her own. She exhaled hard, resuming her vector towards the command ship and accelerating back up to speed. 

The battle was overwhelming. Arseven was helping a lot, but Ahsoka was having to process so _much_ information so _quickly_. She reminded herself to breathe, keeping her hands steady and loose, delicately handling the steering. She inhaled slowly, calling on the Force to sharpen her focus. 

Ahsoka’s world had narrowed to only include the fight in front of her, every problem evaporated except surviving into the next second. She fired rapidly, taking out several vulture droids in a row, and felt better. _She could do this_.

She evaluated the positions of the engaged droids, and nodded in satisfaction. “We’ve got their fighters occupied!” She made the call: “Axe, it’s time to make a run for the battleship.”

“Come on, you whiners,” Axe agreed. “Let’s get dirty.” 

The second group moved in through the path cleared by Ahsoka and the first group, streaking towards the heart of the blockade. Ahsoka was still at the point, getting closer and closer to the target. She could see it clearly now. They had almost completely cleared the path, the bombers had a free run. 

Her heart was pounding, _They were almost there._

Ahsoka looked up suddenly when four new huge Separatist ships came out of hyperspace, flanking her squad. She felt a thrill of horror, before barely dodging a laser and refocusing on her immediate surroundings. The frigates were looming around them, rapidly launching vulture droids.

Ahsoka evaluated the position of the new ships relative to her own. She somehow knew in her gut that her squadron could still make the bombing run if they maintained their vector, and could take out the enemy bridge. 

_If they don’t break the blockade now, Master Obi-Wan couldn’t land his ground assault. The Twi’leks would keep dying. She had to do this._

She clenched her jaw in determination, and focused on leading her squadron towards the battleship. 

“Commander, we’ve been caught in a trap!” Admiral Yularen’s pressed voice interrupted the steady stream of trooper chatter. 

Ahsoka frowned, hands twitching, darting over and around laser fire. Most of her focus was on flying, her mind only half on her mouth. “You’re overreacting, Admiral, I can get us through!” 

She knew their plan was _so close_ to working, just a few more vulture droids and they would be there. Ahsoka changed channels, addressing her pilots. “Blue Squadron, stay the course.” 

“All set, Blue Leader!” came back through the com and she nodded. She did not pass on the Admiral’s warning, but doubled down. _They were so close_.

The Admiral’s voice came again, sounding a bit more stressed, “I’m ordering you to return to the ship! We’re going to need your help.”

“Ahsoka, it’s too risky!” Her Master’s voice was stressed too. “Get your pilots out of there!” 

She wrinkled her brow, but did not alter course. _So close_. She began to notice com chatter get more desperate, punctuated by occasional screams and silences. “Axe, are you still there?” She said, heart pounding. “Come on, boys! Stay in formation!” 

_She couldn’t turn around now, could she? They were nearly…_

“Ahsoka, we are in trouble,” Anakin stressed every word. “I _order_ you back here!”

“Alright, alright!” She said, grinding her teeth and looking away from their target. She flipped channels again. “Let’s go squad, fall back to the command ship.”

“Why are we retreating?” Axe sounded just as frustrated as she felt. 

“We’re not retreating, we’re following orders,” Ahsoka said, resentfully pulling on the steering, flipping around and leading the remaining squad back to the Resolute. Her stomach twisted at the holes in the formation. She’d lost fighters.

Ahsoka looked towards the cruisers and realized that the four Separatist frigates had launched a much larger number of vulture droids than she’d thought. The three Star Destroyers were under attack, and their way back was a lot messier than she’d realized. 

“Fighter squadron!” The Admiral’s voice was impatient. “Where are you?”

Ahsoka was flying as fast as she could, dodging around and narrowly missing a vulture droid that flew directly at her on a suicide pass. Her attention was split, again, and spoke defensively, “Cool your jets, Admiral. We’re almost there.” 

Ahsoka faintly heard him say, “It’s too late!” and then the com dropped. 

“Admiral? Come in!” She looked up and noticed the size of the fires on all three cruisers. One of the bridges of the Defender looked like it had been blown off completely. The Resolute looked like it was sliding sideways, one of the stabilizers must have been hit. She felt sick, and shouted into her com. “Admiral!”

A voice of an unidentified clone answered instead, “All fighters return! We are preparing for light speed!” 

“Um, right,” Ahsoka said, looking instinctively to her right at Axe’s fighter before snapping her head back forward to the controls, yanking the steering down. She’d just barely avoided getting rammed by another vulture droid— _everything was too chaotic!_

She fixed her vector and said, “Axe, stand on it! We only have a few seconds to get on board.” 

“Don’t worry about me, Skipper.“ Axe replied confidently before saying, in a much less confident tone, “Ah, my power converters—” A long pause, filled with the desperate chatter of other troopers. Ahsoka couldn’t breathe. “—they’re failing!”

“Just stay with me, Axe!” Ahsoka called into her com, trying to move closer and to protect Axe’s fighter, let him shadow her back home. She noticed his tail too late.

“Overload, overload!” Axe screamed. “Ahh!”

“Axe!” Ahsoka cried, looking to her right. Axe’s fighter was a fiery ball, and as Ahsoka watched it was hit by a clean shot from a vulture droid, and exploded. _“AXE!”_

There was only silence on the com. She felt sick, and pressed her ship hard, leading the remaining _two_ fighters out of the trap and back to the burning Resolute. They made it there as fast as they could. 

Ahsoka bit her lip, her sharp teeth digging in, the pain a useful distraction as they closed in. 

She looked sideways suddenly and watched in horror as the third cruiser, the Redeemer, fell to pieces. She could feel the shockwave of death in the Force, and could hear the many voices crying out in unison before the too-familiar silence followed. 

_Oh Force, oh no_.

Ahsoka wanted to cry.

“Close up the hanger doors,” she said as levelly as she could, flipping control back to Arseven. “We’re home.” 

—

Anakin barked, “Jump to lightspeed!” 

He frowned and took a deep, steadying breath. He still felt sick at the amount of death lingering in the Force around where the Redeemer had been, and he needed very badly to get away. Even the distance of their planned short hop out of the system would help. 

Anakin sighed with relief when the familiar streaks of hyperspace muted the disturbance in the Force. He handed over the bridge to Commander Appo and headed straight to the hanger. He could feel Ahsoka’s aching pain and sadness through their teaching bond. 

Anakin tried to do what his Master had always done for him, and attempted to shield her from feeling the extent of his frustration through their bond. He knew that he didn’t need to add to her already large emotional disturbance. 

Obi-Wan had taught him how to do this. _He could do it._ He breathed long, slow, deliberate breaths, remembering and strengthening the walls that belonged between him and Ahsoka, reinforcing their mutual instinctive privacy, closing himself off from her senses, hiding his true self behind his public self. 

It was a relief when her pain was muffled slightly. He hoped it worked a lot better on her end, though, because he knew that he was feeling emotions that he didn’t need to share. Specifically, _anger_ at Ahsoka’s disobedience and _hatred_ of the Separatists and their infinite resources and immense _guilt_ over the more than nine thousand clones slaughtered in the last ten minutes on his orders. He took another deep breath and entered the hanger. 

Ahsoka was sitting on her starfigher’s wing, elbows on knees and head in hands. Her gaze was fixed on the ground, likely unable to look at the clones moving around her. Arseven was nearby, keeping her company. Anakin’s lips quirked in a small affectionate smile at the droid before his face fell again.

Anakin tried to keep his voice from carrying his anger. “Ahsoka, I am very disappointed in you.” Her head snapped up, eyes wide. He continued, “You not only disobeyed the Admiral, you disobeyed me.”

“I thought…” She looked at him pleadingly before looking back down. “I thought if I could knock out those battleships for Master Obi-Wan. So when he arrived, he could get through.” 

Anakin sighed. If there was one thing he understood, it was making mistakes while trying to impress Obi-Wan. 

He sat down next to her. “I know you meant well, Snips, but there’s often a bigger picture that you’re not aware of out there. First rule of war is to listen to your superiors and obey their instructions.” He was aware of the hypocrisy as he spoke, but it didn’t matter. She needed to learn this _now_.

Ahsoka looked up, brow wrinkled. “You get carried away sometimes, too, right?”

Anakin sighed and bumped shoulders, their pauldrons bouncing off each other. “That just means I understand what you’re going through.”

“But…” Ahsoka’s voice was small. “I failed.”

“It was a trap, Snips.” He wrapped an arm around her, squeezing once and letting go. She looked up at him, startled. _Jedi didn’t really do hugs_ , he remembered suddenly. He’d spent too much time away from the Temple, too much time with the clones, too much time with Obi-Wan. He smiled apologetically before looking her seriously in the eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“I lost _so many_ …” She looked down again, face stricken. “ _So many_ of my pilots.”

“Take heart, little one,” Anakin said. She looked so sad, and her feelings were causing ripples in the Force strong enough to break his shields. He frowned and wrapped his arm around her again. She was stiff for a moment, and then slumped against him, letting him hold her. He said quietly, “That’s the reality of command.” 

She nodded slightly, her eyes squeezed closed tightly. Anakin saw but did not call attention to the tears that were leaking down her face. He clenched his jaw, looking at the ceiling himself. _So many had died_.

Rex’s toneless voice made Anakin snap to attention. “General, we’re approaching our staging area.” 

“Very good, Captain.” Anakin nodded sharply. Ahsoka had tensed at the sound of Rex’s voice. 

Rex continued in the same flat voice, and Ahsoka grew even more tense. “Master Windu is requesting a report on our progress.”

“Our progress, huh.” Anakin wanted to laugh in despair. He squeezed Ahsoka again, trying to get her to relax, and then let her go, standing up and rolling his shoulders. “We haven’t made any progress yet.”

“I’ll tell him,” Rex said, turning to go. 

“No, Rex.” Anakin cut him off. “I’ll tell him myself, thank you. As soon as we tend to our wounded, get me a damage report.”

Rex nodded. “Right away, sir.” He left quickly. 

Anakin watched him go for a moment, concerned. He turned back to the starfighter. “Now, Snips, I’m going to need you to…” He frowned at the empty wing. She had snuck away. 

_Great._ He didn’t have time to look for her, either. 

Anakin sighed, reluctantly heading towards the lifts to the bridge. He felt a pang of dread at the upcoming briefing. Windu would not appreciate any complication or delay, and Obi-Wan wouldn’t be helpful when Windu was around. Anakin didn’t have any good news to offer them at all. He had no idea how they were going to accomplish the same impossible task with half the number of forces. 

He had no idea how he was going to fix this mess. 

As expected, Windu told Anakin that he had one standard rotation to break the blockade or the ground invasion would have to be postponed, and that there were no available reinforcements for the 501st in the sector. Obi-Wan agreed, unfortunately. It was up to Anakin and Ahsoka.

Anakin knew that delaying the ground assault was simply not an option. The Twi’leks needed support as soon as possible. He had to break through. He only had his flagship, one additional damaged cruiser, and half his men. _How?_

Anakin bounced on the soles of his feet, looking around the bridge. He couldn’t think here. He needed to go repair some engines—that would let him process without distractions. He’d have to send Snips a message to meet him in the hangar. 

Obi-Wan had told him to give her time, but Anakin was afraid he didn’t have time to give.

—

THE NEGOTIATOR

The bridge of the Negotiator hummed around Cody, a specific pitch that he had grown unfortunately used to hearing. It was the low buzz of heavy gossip being passed. The mood was dark. The 212th had worked with the 501st many, many times, and there were many bonds of friendship between the two battalions. Many onboard had friends on the Redeemer. 

Cody did the math again. The Redeemer would have had 7,400 officers, pilots and enlisted crew. It would have carried an additional 2,000 troops. More than nine thousand dead in an instant. Plus a squadron of fighters from the Resolute. 

He frowned and refocused on the holomap of Ryloth, focusing on a possible droid fortification. General Kenobi was standing beside him, stroking his beard and looking pensive. They were trying to plan their ground assault on the Junxland Desert in coordination with the 187th, ignoring the unresolved question of the blockade for now. 

The General abruptly frowned and looked to his left. Cody sighed, and changed the view on the holomap.

“Anakin?” Kenobi’s voice was curious. “What’s happening?” He paused, watching something that Cody couldn’t see. _“What?”_

Cody looked up sharply, and Kenobi made an appeasing gesture at him. “Nothing serious, Cody.”

“Yes, General,” Cody acknowledged, looking back at the holomap. He began to update it to match the last available information about the failing resistance movement’s position on the planet. 

“Bring me over.” Kenobi’s voice allowed no argument. Cody looked up and frowned, and the General nodded to him gravely. “Apologies, Cody. You have the bridge.”

“Yes, General,” Cody repeated, a little drier. 

Kenobi smiled, held out a hand, and disappeared. Cody frowned. It never got less uncanny to watch. He made a note of where the General had been standing; he always came back to the same place, and Cody had no desire to find out what would happen if someone was standing there.

“General Windu’s attempting to reach General Kenobi, sir.” A coms officer sounded concerned. “What do I tell him?” 

Cody looked up and frowned. “Tell him…” Cody was not a natural liar. He ran through a series of possible excuses, eliminating anything that would cause follow-up or sound too strange. He finally came up with, “Tell him that the General’s asleep.” 

_Unlikely, but possible._ Cody almost smiled. He wished his General would take rack time, same as the rest of them. Never happened, though. 

“I’ll… I’ll tell him, sir.” The trooper’s voice was nervous. 

Cody nodded at him, giving him permission to lie to a High General. It wasn’t the first time, and probably wouldn’t be the last. Cody sighed and reoriented the holomap. 

Back to work. 

—

THE RESOLUTE

The first thing that Obi-Wan noticed was the rapidly darkening expression on Anakin’s face. Obi-Wan squeezed his hand gently, looking around the hanger of the Resolute to understand context. 

Ahsoka was pointing an accusatorial finger at Anakin and looking furious. Obi-Wan frowned. “What exactly is the problem?”

Ahsoka dropped her pointing hand and glared at Anakin, forcing him to explain. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and Anakin ground out, “Ahsoka doesn’t appreciate that we are going to proceed with our attack on the blockade.”

“We can’t!” Ahsoka’s voice was sharp. She looked at Obi-Wan, eyes pleading. “We’ve lost _so many_ men.” 

Anakin groaned in frustration and said emphatically, “Like I just said, the Twi’leks on Ryloth are depending on us. We have to break the blockade. There is no alternative, Ahsoka. We have to get this done!”

Obi-Wan squeezed his hand again and sent him a wave of calm in the Force. Anakin’s shoulders dropped slightly. Obi-Wan heard him project, _“She’s accusing me of being careless with the men’s lives, Master."_

 _“Let her be angry, Anakin.”_ Obi-Wan projected back. _“I’ll make sure she’s angry at the right people, not you."_

Anakin’s shoulders dropped all the way. _“Thank you, Master.”_

Ahsoka looked between them, probably sensing that they were having a conversation in the Force, and glared. “How are we even going to do this, when last time we lost so many men?” Her voice was rising, her posture was tense and defensive. “We’re not getting any more support! We can’t just _smash through that blockade!_ ” 

“We need to make do with the forces we have.” Anakin’s free hand fidgeted with a socket plug. “I just need to come up with a plan.”

Obi-Wan sighed.

“You don’t even have a plan?!” Ahsoka shouted. Troopers in the immediate area stopped, and Obi-Wan sent out a gentle Force suggestion to ignore what they’d heard and continue on their business. 

“Ahsoka, please keep your voice down.” Obi-Wan said gently. “We’re in a public place, be mindful of your surroundings.”

Ahsoka startled, looking around with wide eyes. “S-sorry, Master Kenobi.” 

“It’s alright, young one.” Obi-Wan smiled slightly. “I understand. This is hard, but you will find a way through.”

Anakin nodded, adding in a reassuring tone. “We will figure it out. Don’t worry, Snips.” 

Ahsoka’s eyes shifted back from Obi-Wan to Anakin and her posture stiffened again, suddenly pointing another accusatory finger. “No!” Her voice was loud, again. Obi-Wan blinked. “That’s what you said last time! Now everyone’s _gone_. My _whole squadron!”_

Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin’s hand tightly, repressing his reaction. He kept his voice calm. “Yes, they did die, but it was not Anakin’s fault either, Ahsoka.” Ahsoka dropped her finger, face pained. Obi-Wan continued, “It was a trap set by an enemy with better access to reinforcements. You must understand that, and move on. The enemy killed your troops, you did not shoot them down.”

“But… it was my fault we didn’t come back faster. I could have saved more of them.” Ahsoka’s voice was trembling and speeding up. “I was there, I was so close, I felt Axe die and he was so afraid, Master Obi-Wan. He was so _kind_ to me. _He died! They all died!_ It was all my… my fault…” She trailed off in distress.

“No, it was not.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath, making absolutely sure that he _wasn’t_ pressing her in the Force to accept his opinion, letting her work through this herself. “You must learn from this. You will never forget them, but you must move forward.” 

She nodded slowly and then her lip trembled and her eyes began filling with tears. “You said I’m supposed to learn, but what am I supposed to learn, Master Kenobi? I don’t understand.” 

Anakin met his eyes, and Obi-Wan nodded to him, encouraging him to be her Master. Anakin spoke quietly. “You must remember that, while it _is_ important to obey orders generally, it is _especially_ important in certain contexts, like the battle in space today.” Ahsoka nodded, and Anakin continued, as kindly as he could. “You did not have all the information, Ahsoka. You were doing your job well, but things changed outside of your control.”

“I should have turned back sooner.” She said weakly. “They died. They all died. I don’t know why I didn’t turn back. I was so sure I could do it.” 

“I understand, little one.” Anakin reassured her. "You probably could have completed the bombing run, but at the cost of your own life. That's an unacceptable level of risk." Obi-Wan repressed a smile at how much having a Padawan changed Anakin's tune on risk. "You almost made me choose between waiting for you and the lives of all the men on the Resolute. Don't make me choose like that, Ahsoka, please."

Ahsoka nodded seriously. Obi-Wan met Anakin’s eyes. Anakin looked haunted. He understood her guilt all too well, and Obi-Wan felt called to reassure him too. “It _was_ a trap. The enemy intentionally hid the information you needed to make good decisions, in the hope that you’d expose yourself to exactly that risk. You did the best you could.” 

Anakin sent a wave of gratitude through the Force. Obi-Wan looked back at Ahsoka and deliberated for a long moment on how to say what he needed to say. “Don’t internalize this failure too deeply, young one. It’s not _your_ fault that they died, and it doesn’t reflect on you personally or on your value as an individual.” Ahsoka’s wet eyes squeezed shut and she reopened them, looking grateful. Obi-Wan said cautiously, “You’ve been placed in a position that is setting you up to fail.” 

“What?” Ahsoka asked, confused. She wiped her eyes and frowned.

“You are an exceptional fighter and pilot, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan said. “For your age, you are truly remarkable.” She looked extremely young to Obi-Wan then, incongruous with her armor. “You are, however, still very young, and deserved more training before being forced to war. I am _very proud of you_ for surviving today.” His voice was gentle, and her coloring was much darker now. 

Obi-Wan placed a hand on her shoulder, slightly amazed at what the Force was allowing him to do. “Yoda asked for too much when he sent you here to be a soldier, it was unfair to you. No youngling should have such survivor’s guilt.” Ahsoka looked away and nodded slightly, visibly swallowing. “The Council is asking too much of us all.”

“The Council?” Ahsoka tilted her head to the side and frowned. “You’re on the Council.”

Obi-Wan smiled slightly. “Yes, I am. I am one of twelve, and my opinion rarely swings the votes.”

“What do you mean? The Council doesn’t agree with you? They don’t agree?” Ahsoka sounded baffled. 

Obi-Wan knew the feeling. Being raised in the Temple, the Council was considered infallible and wise. Younglings idolized them, and thought they were beyond reproach.

“No, Ahsoka. They— _we_ —do not agree.” Obi-Wan said. “We do not have time for this discussion now. I need to get back to the Negotiator, and you and Anakin need to brainstorm a way through the blockade.” He smiled, as warmly as he could and spoke bracingly. “You are doing your best. You are learning. It is _unrealistic_ to imagine you won’t make mistakes. Mistakes are how you will improve.” Ahsoka grimaced. Obi-Wan stressed, “You cannot fixate on being perfect.”

“They _died_ though. My mistake made people _die_. They were so nice, such good people.”

“It was the Sith who killed them, not you.” Anakin said abruptly. Obi-Wan turned his head quickly, frowning. Anakin frowned back. “She should know.”

She wrinkled her brow. “What does that mean?” 

“There is a lot to explain, young one.” Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. “It is not the right time. We _do not have time now, Padawan_.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said, chastened.

Ahsoka shook her head, confused. “What?”

Obi-Wan spoke in a final manner. “All you need to learn from today is that _your best is all you can do,_ Ahsoka. One moment at a time, each task as well done as you can.” He smiled and pulled away. “I recommend you listen to your Master, I spent a lot of time and effort training him. He has excellent instincts in battle and won’t lead you astray.” 

Anakin shot him a cocky grin. “Thank you, Master.”

Ahsoka looked at her feet. “I’m sorry, Skyguy. I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have yelled at you either.”

“It’s alright, Snips. I really understand.” Anakin’s voice was encouraging. “What we’re asking you to do is hard. What we’ve all been asked to do is hard.”

Obi-Wan agreed. “I know you can do it, Ahsoka. You are a remarkably gifted Padawan.” 

Ahsoka’s posture straightened and she bowed formally, hands pressed together. “Thank you, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan bowed back, as best he could with Anakin holding one hand. Ahsoka let out a weak chuckle. “No problem at all, young one.” He squeezed Anakin’s hand tighter and caught his gaze. “Com me if there’s trouble?”

“Of course, Master.” Anakin rolled his eyes. “As always.”

“Thank you. May the Force be with you both.” Obi-Wan smiled at both of them, and dropped Anakin’s hand.

—

THE NEGOTIATOR

Between blinks, the General was back. 

“General Windu made contact, sir,” Cody said, not missing a beat. “He was told that you are asleep.”

Kenobi smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Cody.” 

“Do they have a plan to break the blockade, sir?”

“Not yet,” Kenobi said, observing some of Cody’s modifications of the holomap. “But Anakin’s about to do something so stupid he doesn’t want to admit it to me in advance. He had that look on his face. You know the one.”

“Yes, General.” Cody laughed once. “Rex imitates it when retelling stories. We’re all very familiar with Skywalker's _Boom-Happy_ face.”

Kenobi laughed loudly, causing men all over the bridge to look over in surprise. “That’s an excellent name for it.” 

Cody felt a surge of warmth, and smiled slightly. “I’ll tell Rex you thought so, sir.”

“Good,” his General sighed and looked back at the map. “Very good. Will you contact Master Windu for me? I seem to have awoken from my slumber.”

“Of course, sir.”

—

THE RESOLUTE

“Commander on deck!”

“At ease.” The words did not sound natural coming out of her mouth. Ahsoka straightened her spine and walked towards the holomap. Rex and Appo had their helmets off, and both were watching her approach with blank faces. Ahsoka looked down.

“General Skywalker is contacting you from the Defender.” Rex spoke neutrally, neither encouraging nor discouraging.

Ahsoka nodded and the flickering holo of Anakin popped up across the table. He looked at her seriously, crossing his arms. “Alright, Ahsoka. We’re ready to get underway.”

“Master…” Ahsoka tried to keep emotion out of her voice, with moderate success. She was hyperaware of everyone listening and watching their exchange. “Are you sure you won't reconsider this?”

“This is the only way, trust me.” Anakin looked her over one final time. "You got this, Snips." He engaged his hyperdrive, his holo disappearing as his ship left the staging area.

There was a long, quiet moment amidst the sea of organized chaos that was the bridge. Ahsoka tried to keep it together. She felt like she'd been shoved onstage to act in a play without having been given a script. She wanted a script, very badly.

“Better fill us in, Commander.” Rex said, his voice was as steady as ever. 

“Right…” Her tone was weak, and she frowned, breathing deeply to remove the uncertainty from her voice. She tried again. “You know that Master Skywalker has evacuated the Defender and taken it back alone to engage the blockade.”

“Yes…” Rex sounded hesitant. “We have questions about that.”

She nodded, and began manipulating the holomap. “He is planning on piloting the Defender directly into their battleship and taking out the enemy commander.” The map showed the ships crashing and the resulting explosion.

“What?” Rex asked, staring blankly as the animation repeated itself. 

Ahsoka tried to explain Anakin’s reasoning as best she could. “The Defender is damaged already, and the enemy can't stop that ship from taking them out. He’s going to get in an escape pod and jettison right before impact.”

“What about the enemy fleet, sir?” Appo’s voice was incredulous. “There’s still the frigates.”

Ahsoka dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I know, and he’ll be defenseless in an escape pod. It’s up to us to engage the remaining fleet with the combined forces from the fighters evacuated from the Defender and those left…” She swallowed. “The fighters left from the Resolute.”

“I have to say…” Rex seemed to be searching for words. “This plan is _questionable_.”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka agreed with him, but couldn’t do anything about it. “But with their general destroyed along with their battleship, the droid commanders will be in chaos.”

“Only temporarily.” Rex said it like he was breaking bad news. She already knew that, and nodded at him. “And there's still General Skywalker to find in all that mess.” 

She grimaced. “I know, but—”

Appo cut her off. He sounded frustrated. “In our first attack we had _three_ fully armed cruisers, and we failed.” He made eye contact with Rex, ignoring her.

Rex sounded resigned. “I wish General Skywalker had discussed this plan with us. The odds are very much against us.”

“They always are, but—” Ahsoka said, mustering the courage to explain her solution. 

Appo cut her off again. “Yes, but _normally_ we have General Skywalker to lead us, and—” Ahsoka looked sharply up at him, taken aback, her courage dropping instantly. He straightened. “I meant no offense, Commander.”

“None taken.” Ahsoka swallowed, looking back at the map. She already felt like an imposter. It was good to know they saw her as one too.

Appo appeared to clench his jaw and deigned to ask her the big question, the one she’d been expecting all along. “Sir, _even if_ Skywalker is successful and destroys the battleship, how will we stand up to the combined firepower of the remaining frigates?”

 _Oh, you mean the most important part of the operation that Anakin left for me to figure out? Without his advice?_

She looked down, spinning the map and added the Resolute’s arrival to the projected combat. Their cruiser looked extremely outnumbered, flanked by massive Separatist frigates. 

“I thought about that and, well, I have an idea.” She squared her shoulders.

Rex gave her a penetrating look. “Go ahead, Commander.”

She looked back at the holomap, injecting strength into her voice. “If we took the Resolute and angled her hull against the incoming frigates, the bridge and hangar deck would be relatively safe from their attack.” She tilted the ship in the holo, and brought the enemy frigates closer. “We could draw them in and then use the bombers to outflank them." She showed the bombers curling around the Resolute and creating a kill box around the Separatist forces. "The bombers would be too fast, and they would be trapped.”

Appo said immediately, “I’m not sure about this, Commander.”

Ahsoka looked down, frustrated. _He hadn’t even considered it._ “I think…”

Rex spoke up. He didn’t sound as if he dismissed her outright, and she was very grateful. “If we were certain the shields would hold—”

Appo cut him off too. “Perhaps a different strategy. We need to take more _time_ and plan.”

Ahsoka put both her hands down hard on the holotable and looked at Appo intently. “No!” The sound of her sharp voice made both troopers straighten. Her tone was fervent. “We don't _have_ any more time! Master Skywalker needs me now!” She took a steadying breath. “He needs us now.”

There was a long moment of silence, and she stared at Appo hard. He still looked like he wanted to protest.

“The Commander is right.” The Admiral’s crisp voice came from behind her, and she startled and looked around. He had a bandaged head, but otherwise looked like himself. She smiled tentatively at him, and he gave her a small nod, turning to the officers. “I know this strategy is very bold, but these circumstances call for drastic measures.”

Ahsoka frowned as Appo instinctively deferred to the Admiral’s opinion. “Then, the strategy will work, sir?”

The Admiral looked down at her. “Well, will it?”

She squared her shoulders. “Yes, it will.” Ahsoka took a deep breath. “I’ll man the fighter squadron. Wait for my signal to begin our attack.”

Rex looked her over, and seemed to make up his mind. He gave her a hint of a smile. “Right, Commander.”

She smiled back gratefully and walked out with purpose. 

_She could do this._

—

THE NEGOTIATOR

“We’re going to call it a Marg Sabl Maneuver.” Obi-Wan’s voice was extremely proud.

He'd come back to his quarters to dress and mentally prepare for his incipient invasion. Anakin and Ahsoka’s dramatic efforts had cleared the blockade, and now it was up to the 212th and the 187th to free Ryloth from the grip of the Techno Union. Obi-Wan was truly dreading what he would find on the surface. Ryloth was likely a mess, and the people were definitely starving. At least Ahsoka's surprising level of success gave him _something_ positive for the day.

Darth Solon sounded confused. “Marg Sabl?”

Obi-Wan smiled, sitting heavily on the bed opposite the holocron. “It’s a Togrutan flower that opens its petals in a sunburst shape every morning.” He made a demonstrative gesture with his hands.

“Poetic,” Solon said dryly. 

“Well,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “She picked it, and she is fourteen.”

Solon tipped his head from side to side, and sounded speculative. “A fourteen-year-old who seems comfortable inventing battle tactics on the fly.”

“Yes, it was rather impressive, wasn’t it?” Obi-Wan said happily. “It shows real brilliance to invent a tactical maneuver at that age.”

Solon nodded thoughtfully, and offered a suggestion. “Ahsoka may very well be the perfect apprentice for you.”

“What?” Obi-Wan frowned at him, at a loss. “Anakin is my apprentice, you know that.”

“No,” Solon shook his head. “Anakin is your _Midichlor_ and your right hand." Solon gave him a stern look that Obi-Wan resented immensely. "He is not suited to inherit an Empire, _you know that._ ”

Obi-Wan swallowed. He couldn’t argue that particular point, so he wouldn’t try. “What are you talking about, Solon?”

“Do you know how my legacy ended up being _seven_ clean power transfers? Hundreds of years of stability?”

Obi-Wan pulled out his comlink, checking that he had time for this conversation. He did. “Historians have many theories, Solon.”

Solon smirked and spoke like he was sharing a secret, instead of stating a fact. “After me, they were all true Jedi." Obi-Wan frowned and gave him a look that demanded explanation. Solon continued in the same tone. "They had no natural heirs, so they _adopted_.”

“Adoption?” Obi-Wan had heard that theory before, but had never given it much thought. “That’s the key to success?”

“Yes.” Solon sounded proud of himself. “You have to find a young person with talent and let them grow up observing you. Most monarchs make the mistake of assuming that their child would be the best. They are generally incorrect.”

“Hereditary monarchy is wrong,” Obi-Wan agreed wholeheartedly. 

“It’s not that it’s wrong, _Sith’ari_ , but that it is not effective." Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and began to slide on his boots. "It is much better to find a youngling of thirteen or fourteen who has demonstrated the right capacities and disposition. Ahsoka sounds suitable. She will be a Jedi, and this is how you will be a Jedi to history. Also—” Obi-Wan crossed his arms, waiting for Solon to finish. “—Being a Togruta will be the perfect cosmetic change to the presentation of power when it comes time to make the transfer. People will feel like they are experiencing change when behind the front everything is the same.”

Obi-Wan was the one sounding speculative now. “What does being a Togruta have anything to do with it?”

“The Republic has been led by white men for several generations now. Valorum and Palpatine and then hopefully you, so by the time of power handover, a female Togruta will be fresh and inspirational, rather than more of the same.”

Obi-Wan felt a jolt of adrenaline. “How do you know the name Valorum? I’m fairly positive I’ve never mentioned that name to you.”

“You have.” Solon’s face was blank.

There was a long pause. Obi-Wan searched his memory and came up blank. _Perhaps he’d forgotten?_

“Very well,” Obi-Wan said slowly. His eyes lingered on Solon’s face, trying to read him. He still felt unsettled. “I suppose, yes, Ahsoka being a Togruta could be an asset.”

“Yes,” Solon said, voice becoming intent again. “She needs the loyalty of the legions, though, and a high level of name recognition or it won’t work.”

“I am scheduled with Anakin to do some publicity at the Chancellor’s request.” Obi-Wan frowned. “Now that you mention it, it is odd that Ahsoka was not invited too, as Anakin’s Padawan learner.”

“Perhaps the Chancellor simply prefers other white men to be the face of the leadership of the war.” Solon said. “It is not as if the Jedi Order is made up exclusively of white men.” 

“He’s probably xenobiophobic, I would not be surprised.” Obi-Wan sneered slightly. “He would be.”

“Why do you say it like that?” Solon was deliberative. “What exactly would you say is wrong with the Chancellor?”

“Nothing with a paper trail,” Obi-Wan mused. “He’s very fast to adapt to the polling data. I don’t believe that he believes in anything except power.”

“He is the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic,” Solon said blandly. “You don’t get to that position by ignoring power.”

Obi-Wan sighed. It was time for him to go. “I hate politics.” 

“Get used to it, _Sith’ari_. Even with absolute power, there will be politics.”

“Yes, but there will be less of it,” Obi-Wan said. “I could order people to shut up and leave the room.”

Solon smirked. “Yes, you can do that. It is very  satisfying.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan smirked back. “I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you were sad there was no smut, I've been writing a series of [PWP prompts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24313936) from my [tumblr](https://intermundia.tumblr.com), so there is smut aplenty over there :) 
> 
> Writing war/Ahsoka/clones is always slower for me than writing Obi-Wan, so this one was tough, but very important imho. Next installment should be up soon! 
> 
> Things, as always, will get worse <3


	11. Ravages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Enjoy :)

THE RESOLUTE

Early 21BBY

Ahsoka was about to begin painting her chest plate when her comlink chimed. She capped her paint and frowned at the comcode, unsure of who would be contacting her at this time of night. The comcode was one she recognized—almost. It was definitely coming from a Jedi, but it wasn’t any of her instructors or her friends. It definitely was not Barriss. _Who else could it be?_

She accepted the transmission, and felt a surge of alarm when the flickering holo of Master Yoda materialized in her bunk. 

Yoda smiled at her, his face friendly. “Ahsoka, very glad to see you, I am.” 

Ahsoka blinked and then bowed slightly. “Hello, Master Yoda.” She straightened and wrinkled her forehead slightly. “What can I do for you?”

_Why was he comming her directly?_

“Checking in with you, I am.” Yoda nodded decisively. “Sent you out, I did. Curious I am, if any problems, there are.”

Yoda wanted to know if she was having problems. 

_Problems_.

“I…” Ahsoka swallowed. She didn’t even know where to begin, and had no preparation at all for this conversation. Other than Master Obi-Wan’s warning, apparently. “It has been hard, Master Yoda.”

“Sorry I am to hear that, Padawan,” Yoda said, his voice empathetic. “Make things difficult, something has?” 

_Difficult_. 

“Y-yes, Master Yoda,” Ahsoka said. “I lost my squadron during my first command.” She looked at the bottle of blue paint and the picture of Axe’s helmet that she had pulled from the security holos. She hadn’t painted her armor yet, but she was almost ready. She knew how to honor his sacrifice. _His pointless death_ …

“Yes, difficult, that is.” Yoda sounded sad. “But successful, you were. The blockade of Ryloth, broken it has been.”

“It was, yeah,” Ahsoka said, unwillingly. She shifted in her seat. “ _So many_ men died, though. It was really… It was really difficult.”

“Help you, your Master has?” Yoda asked, eyes curious. “Teach you, does he?”

“Yes, _of course,_ Master Yoda.” Ahsoka nodded quickly, feeling a spike of defensiveness. “We haven’t had too much time between battles, but when we do he’s always there for me if I need help.”

“Good, that is.” Yoda sounded satisfied. “Capable, he is. Your classes, is he guiding? The Code, does he teach? Any trouble, have you had?”

Ahsoka tried to keep her alarm off her face. The voice of Master Obi-Wan floated up in her memory: _‘Our lives are in your hands.’_ She’d told him then that it was unlikely that she would even speak to Yoda. It seems that Obi-Wan had been right, not her. Her mind flipped through all the things she could not say. She didn’t want to be removed back to the Temple! 

Master Yoda could never know how emotional her Master was, how little he seemed to meditate, how he _never_ mentioned the Code except when prompted, how much he _cared_ about everyone—let alone what she’d come to suspect about his… _relationship…_ with Master Obi-Wan and their weird transportation-thingy. It wasn’t any of Master Yoda’s business, she decided all of a sudden. It was between them, nobody else.

“No trouble, Master Yoda,” Ahsoka said, hyperaware of how false her voice sounded. She tried to keep her tone level, keep it contained. “Master Skywalker has been great. He’s tried his hardest, but…” She collected her thoughts, remembering the question she had wanted to ask since the moment she’d arrived on Christophsis. “We’re pretty close to the same age. I was wondering… I was wondering why you chose me? Why you decided to send him a Padawan at all? I heard him say that he didn’t request one.”

“Needed help, he did.” Yoda explained with a mischievous smile that Ahsoka didn’t much like. “Need help, all Jedi do. Work together, we must, for the war to be won.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Ahsoka said slowly. “But…” She worried her lip, searching his expression. “I’m not actually sure I’m old enough to fight in a war, Master Yoda.”

Yoda chuckled. “Old enough! Certain of that you were, when the Temple, you left.”

“I didn’t…” Ahsoka looked down, swallowing. She’d been _so naive_. “I didn’t know what it would be like, Master Yoda.” She took a breath and looked back at the holo. “Are you sending out the rest of my clan?”

“Soon, yes,” Master Yoda said. “Away from the Temple, I have been called. Make assignments while absent, I can not.”

“I’m the only one you sent?” Ahsoka asked, something prickling down her spine. It felt like paranoia.

“Wrong, was I? Hmm?” Yoda seemed to narrow his eyes. “Return to Temple, think you need?”

“No,” Ahsoka spoke decisively. She could not imagine going back to life as a youngling, without Skyguy—it would be too awful. She was useful here. She was learning. “I am _not_ asking to go back, Master Yoda. Thank you.”

“Contact me, you will, if more concerns, you have.” Yoda nodded slightly. “May the Force be with you.” 

“May the Force be with you too.” Ahsoka replied automatically, staring blankly at the place where Yoda had been for a long moment after he had disappeared. 

_That hadn’t seemed normal._

—

RYLOTH

Cody was anxious to get on the ground. 

Ghost Company was leading the first wave of Republic forces landing on Ryloth, and their mission was to take the town of Nabat and disable the six proton cannons that had been installed. The _problem_ with proton cannons is that they were each powerful enough to breach the shields of an Acclamator-class assault ship or completely destroy a LAAT/i Gunship with a single hit.

They were currently inside a LAAT/i, and Cody just wanted to be planetside.

“We need to remember why we're here.” General Kenobi was giving the troopers one final warning. He’d done this several times, but Cody acknowledged how important it was to do it again. “We came to aid the Twi'leks, not destroy their home. Cody?”

Cody stepped forward, giving everyone a stern look. “That means we'll be taking it back the hard way. Minimal destruction with blasters and droid poppers only. No rockets or detonators. Check your aim. Keep an eye out for the locals.” He looked hard at the back, keeping an eye on Boil. He was an excellent scout, but everyone knew his opinions. “Am I understood?”

His question was met by a resounding, “Sir, yes, sir!” 

“If we're here to free the tail-heads, the least they can do is get out of our way.” Boil’s grumble was audible over the sounds of other transports exploding in the sky, over the sound of their own engines. Cody rolled his eyes, and made for the back of the transport. He could almost _feel_ Kenobi’s desire for him to give Boil a talking to specifically. 

“Is there a problem, trooper?” Cody asked in a quiet, intent tone—the one that seemed to get the most attention. He’d learned it from the General, and it really seemed to work. Boil snapped to attention. 

“No, sir!” 

“I heard the backchat, Boil!” Cody barked. “Will you follow orders?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Keep a lid on it, then.” He turned back to the front, repeating the point. “We don’t know what we’re going to find down there, but it’s not likely to be pretty, troopers. Let’s make the Twi’leks grateful we came, not make things worse.” 

Kenobi nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Cody.”

—

THE RESOLUTE / THE NEGOTIATOR

When Obi-Wan appeared suddenly in the middle of Anakin’s room, he was looking at his desk, yelling. 

“—bodies in the streets!”

Anakin jerked his head up sharply. “Master?”

Obi-Wan looked over, his mouth shutting with a click. His cheeks were flushed, his chest heaving. He fixed his posture and pushed his shoulders down, smoothing his sleep shirt reflexively. “Anakin, hello.”

“What’s going on?” Anakin asked warily, setting down his datapad. “Why are you yelling?”

“Just discussing the progress of the war with our dear friend Darth Solon.” Obi-Wan spat. Anakin raised his eyebrows at the venom in his tone. “Or lack thereof.” 

“What?” Anakin blinked, trying to understand. “Did something happen on Ryloth that wasn’t in the briefing?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said shortly. He stood still in the middle of the room, still vibrating with tension. “Plenty.”

Anakin evaluated his face with growing concern. “What happened, Master?” Obi-Wan didn’t answer directly. Anakin felt a jolt of panic when Obi-Wan just stared at the far wall for an extended pause. “Master?” 

“I’m glad Ahsoka never went planetside.” Obi-Wan’s tone was bleak. He sighed and began to pace. “I know plenty of the men are going to have nightmares. I might. It was bad, Anakin.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin said blankly. “That’s really terrible.”

“It was, yes.” Obi-Wan walked to the other side of the room and pivoted, walking back, his stride coiling with anxiety. Anakin watched his progress, his heart aching. “Droids don’t perceive or care about scent.” 

“And?” Anakin prompted. “What scent?”

Obi-Wan gave him a look. “Decomposition.”

“What?” Anakin was revolted.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked like a whip. Anakin instinctively straightened. “They were holding the Twi’leks in camps, not allowing them to return to bury the dead left behind during the roundup. Entire blocks of the town smell like death. Wild animals had eaten the bodies on the streets— mostly.” Obi-Wan looked ill. “Not completely, but mostly. The scent truly came from _inside_ the houses. Waxer and Boil were helped by a small child who was starving, hiding in the drains. She’d been living amidst the bodies of her neighbors. She didn’t know where else to go. The gutkurrs would have killed her or the droids would have.”

“Force,” Anakin breathed out. “It’s all like that?”

“As far as I can tell. The population of the entire southern hemisphere had been concentrated into several large camps to be used as living shields around weapons and fortifications. It was one of the most evil things I’ve ever seen, but makes perfect sense from the perspective of a droid. They use our respect for sentient life against us. It made the job today much more difficult.”

“Master…” Anakin stood up slowly, drawing nearer. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Padawan.” Obi-Wan was still agitated. “This is _unendurable_. The war. I can’t…” He looked down, clenching his fists. Anakin reached out hesitantly, wrapping his arms around him, drawing him close. “The collateral damage, Anakin, it’s so much worse than I had possibly imagined.”

“There’s nothing you could have done to stop it, Master,” Anakin said seriously, holding him tight. “Ryloth was invaded _months_ ago, the Twi’leks were rounded up _weeks_ ago. We weren’t anywhere near. We had orders to be elsewhere.”

_“Just following orders_ isn’t feeling like a sufficient excuse for our failures anymore. I should be able to do more, prevent more—I should have more control!” Obi-Wan still sounded angry. Anakin pulled him over towards his bed, sitting him down. Obi-Wan looked up at him, face pained. “I am trying to keep focused on what I can fix, but… _Anakin_ … it was so bad. The Twi’leks deserved so much better. The galaxy deserves so much better.”

“Is there anything we can do about it?” Anakin asked, voice low. He stood between Obi-Wan’s spread legs, his hands coming to rest on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, rubbing gently. “You said there wasn’t.”

“There isn’t,” Obi-Wan said, his forehead falling forward into Anakin’s chest. Anakin held him close as Obi-Wan spoke into his shirt. “I don’t know. Raising awareness of the atrocities wouldn’t do anything, Ryloth has been poverty-stricken and raided by slavers for generations and there’s been no public will to help. It would just be lost in the noise.”

Anakin wanted to throw something. He crushed the feeling down and stroked Obi-Wan’s head, scratching his scalp slightly, trying to relax him. He muttered in a resentful undertone, “I’ve never understood why people don’t care about the Twi’leks. There were a _lot_ of Twi’lek slaves on Tatooine. Mostly female. Their life was horrible. Why don’t people care, Master?”

“They’re sexually appealing to many species in the galaxy,” Obi-Wan said darkly, relaxing into Anakin’s embrace. “Many consider them to be objects anyway, Anakin, and objects can be owned.”

“But they’re sentient,” Anakin complained. “That’s so unfair.”

Obi-Wan leaned back, looking up with resigned eyes. “You don’t have to convince me, Anakin.”

“I know, I’m just…” Anakin sighed, feeling the weight of the artificial gravity suddenly become too much to bear. _It was all too much._ He couldn’t be strong when Obi-Wan was weak, not right now, not today. He sank to his knees, resting a head on Obi-Wan’s thigh. “It makes me so angry I can’t see straight. It makes me so sad I want to give up and then that makes me angrier.” Obi-Wan looked down at him, absently petting him. “I’m so angry, Master.”

Obi-Wan nodded tightly, his tone was clipped. “It’s _justified_. You _should_ be. I am too, Padawan.”

“What do we do?” Anakin asked, nuzzling his cheek against Obi-Wan’s leg. “Find the Sith?” He looked up hopefully. “Can I please kill Dooku?”

“Tempting.” Obi-Wan sighed, his hand cupping Anakin’s face, his thumb running thoughtfully along Anakin’s lips. “I’m not sure about Dooku. He’s a known problem. It could be worse, though I admit I’m not sure exactly how.”

“The Separatists all depend on him,” Anakin said, trying to suck the finger into his mouth. Obi-Wan smiled and pulled it away. Anakin pouted. “If he were gone, they’d fall apart.”

“That’s just what it looks like from the outside, Anakin,” Obi-Wan shrugged apologetically. Anakin held eye contact and began to slide his head further up Obi-Wan’s leg, moving his mouth closer to his cock. Obi-Wan neither encouraged nor dissuaded him, just watched his progress. “We have no way to know that for sure.”

“What?” Anakin frowned and pressed a chaste kiss against the shape of Obi-Wan’s cock in his pants. Obi-Wan wasn’t hard, and Anakin gave him another soft kiss and slid his head back. “He’s their leader.”

Obi-Wan sighed, running his hand through Anakin’s messy curls and gripping lightly. Anakin closed his eyes and pushed his head affectionately into Obi-Wan’s hand. “Grievous might actually be a worse option, Anakin, we simply don’t know. Dooku is the Sith Apprentice, not the Master. We can only guess at the Master’s perspective. They might even be hoping Dooku gets killed quickly.”

Anakin looked up in confusion. “Why would a Master want their Apprentice to die?” He shook his head, his hair pulling against Obi-Wan’s hold, and released a shaky breath. “That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Obi-Wan grabbed his hair more tightly, holding him still, and Anakin’s eyes slid closed again. That was better. He wanted Obi-Wan to take control back. He whined quietly and Obi-Wan said in a low tone, “The Sith work differently than the Jedi, Anakin. It’s a lot more… it’s a lot more competitive. There are only two, you know. If the Apprentice seems too powerful, the Master might find it necessary to put them down.”

Anakin laughed once, imagining Dooku in a kennel. “Like a really sick lothcat?” 

“Something like that,” Obi-Wan smiled slightly before his expression flattened. He roughly let go of Anakin, running a hand down his face, smoothing his beard and looking thoughtful. “I think that’s why Dooku was trying to recruit me on Geonosis. He knows he’s in danger. I can’t think of why else he told me what he did.”

“You want to ask him _why_ more than you want him dead.” Anakin grumbled resentfully. He began sliding his head further up Obi-Wan’s leg again, moving his mouth closer to his cock. Obi-Wan looked down with a small smile.

“I do want to ask him,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “I _need_ to ask him. He simply can’t die yet.”

“Fine,” Anakin said. “We’ll find him, ask him, and _then_ kill him.” He began to suck lightly on the head of Obi-Wan’s cock through his soft pants, feeling Obi-Wan begin to stiffen under the attention. It made Anakin feel useful, and he sucked slightly harder.

“That works for me, Padawan mine.” Obi-Wan’s voice was warmer and he adjusted his hips minutely. “Thank you.” There was a long, quiet moment as Anakin nuzzled against Obi-Wan’s growing erection and sighed happily. 

Obi-Wan stroked Anakin’s head again, holding the back of his neck and pushing his mouth more firmly against his cock. His voice was slightly strained. “I’m so grateful for the bond sometimes… I had let myself get so worked up.” Obi-Wan sent his fondness through the Force, his mind encompassing and embracing. “I feel better now.”

Anakin felt like he was sinking into a warm bath, and shivered. His voice was slightly unsteady. “R-really?”

“Yes, darling.” Obi-Wan’s voice got quieter. He pulled up on Anakin’s neck, making him rise slightly, and kissed his forehead. “I _need_ you.”

Anakin tipped his head back, studying the intent look on Obi-Wan’s face. His heart was racing, his face felt flushed. “You do?”

“I… I do.” Obi-Wan sounded slightly lost. “I can’t imagine fighting this war alone.”

“Well, that’s the good thing about the bond.” Anakin leaned closer and nudged Obi-Wan’s nose playfully with his own. “You don’t have to be. That’s what it felt like the first time you let me in, like I wasn’t _alone_ anymore. Feeling alone had hurt so much, but I had mostly gotten used to it.” He sighed with satisfaction, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s stomach and hugging him tightly before letting go. “The bond makes me feel like a complete person.” 

Obi-Wan’s breathing hitched, his presence in the Force flickering slightly. Anakin frowned and pulled away, looking with concern at Obi-Wan’s unreadable expression. “Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” Obi-Wan asked, confused. “I’m not doing anything.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes, suspicion swelling in his gut. “You’re not telling the truth.”

“What?” Obi-Wan looked at him sharply, his brow furrowing. “What in the Force are you talking about?”

Anakin paused, searching his face for the expression he was so sure he’d seen, but it wasn’t there now. He shook his head once slowly. “Never mind, I thought…” He reached out tentatively with the bond, rubbing up against the edges of Obi-Wan’s mind. “I thought I saw something.”

“I didn’t even _say_ anything,” Obi-Wan sounded worried, reciprocating Anakin’s mental touch with a feeling of wary curiosity. “How could I have lied without speaking?”

“Never mind,” Anakin said again, suddenly blushing and looking down. He’d overreacted, and now felt extremely foolish about it. “I don’t know why I thought that.”

Obi-Wan looked unconvinced. “Alright.”

There was an almost awkward pause. Anakin fidgeted with his glove, trying to forget what he’d seen, what he’d felt. He looked back up, trying to communicate his apology with his eyes. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“It’s… it’s fine,” Obi-Wan sounded slightly defeated. “I’m _not_ lying about needing you, dear one. I’m just… I’m distracted from today, and my thoughts are a mess. It really was despicable down there, Anakin.”

“I know… I _know_ that,” Anakin said, hating how needy his voice sounded. “I’m _sorry_. I just…”

“Come here,” Obi-Wan said, opening his arms. Anakin crawled up and sat in his lap, curling around him. Obi-Wan kissed him gently. “Thank you, Anakin.”

“Why are you thanking me?” Anakin said bashfully. “I didn’t do anything right.”

“You have, actually,” Obi-Wan said, his voice soft. He rearranged Anakin’s legs open slightly wider and pulled their hips together, holding him more securely on his lap. Anakin instinctively pressed their erections together, and Obi-Wan hummed in appreciation. “You’ve been very good lately, did you know that?”

“I have?” Anakin felt small. He rubbed his cheek against Obi-Wan’s beard and tucked his head into the crook of his neck. He took a long, slow breath, drinking in the familiar scent of Obi-Wan’s skin.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, his voice a low rumble that Anakin more felt than heard. “You’ve done very well with Ahsoka, with the blockade, with _me_.” He tilted his head and kissed Anakin’s temple. “Even your darkness hasn’t been out of control, Anakin. You’ve been doing everything so well.”

Anakin whimpered and pulled his head up to study Obi-Wan’s genuine expression, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “I have, Master? I’ve been trying really hard.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Obi-Wan pulled his face close and kissed him with more intensity, licking between his lips and tasting his mouth. Anakin moaned and held on tighter when their tongues tangled together, and Obi-Wan pulled his head back. He smiled slowly, giving Anakin his warmest expression. 

Anakin eagerly raked his gaze over the visible signs of Obi-Wan’s approval, happily observing the crinkles by Obi-Wan’s eyes, the dimples in his cheeks, the affection in his gaze. Obi-Wan nodded at him, and his voice was a low, encouraging murmur. “You’ve been very obedient, very good. I’ve been proud of you, Padawan.”

“Thank you, _thank you_ , Master,” Anakin gasped and felt like a weight fell from his shoulders. He moved against Obi-Wan, rolling his hips and groaning at the pleasure of the friction. He was already so hard. Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force swept through him and lingered, making him feel dizzy.

“In fact…” Obi-Wan’s hands moved to his ass, grabbing and holding him still. His voice was speculative. “I think you’ve more than earned a reward.”

“I have?” Anakin asked, incredulous. “What’s that mean?”

Obi-Wan smiled and kissed him softly for a moment before he sucked Anakin’s bottom lip into his mouth and bit down. The unexpected pain made Anakin moan loudly as his hips twitched. Obi-Wan smacked his ass hard and grabbed it again, holding it even tighter, keeping Anakin still as his kiss turned even more aggressive and consuming.

Obi-Wan eventually pulled back with a mischievous glint in his eye that made Anakin feel drunk with arousal. When Anakin made a questioning noise, Obi-Wan explained: “When you’re good, Padawan, I’ll give you what you want.”

“What do I want, Master?” Anakin asked curiously, eyes flicking between Obi-Wan’s. He tried to shift in Obi-Wan’s lap again, seeking stimulation, and he whined and pouted when Obi-Wan’s hands prevented his movement. 

“You _would_ ask me that.” Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and shook his head slightly. “You want me to be very rough with you indeed, dear one.”

“I do?” Anakin asked breathily, knowing immediately that he _did_. “You dreamed it?”

“Rather _frequently_ , yes…” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and then his hold on Anakin’s ass tightened even harder, the tips of his fingers digging into the muscle with bruising force. He moved Anakin’s hips against his own, setting a rough rhythm and groaning quietly at the pressure. 

Anakin’s eyes fluttered shut at the sound, and he relaxed happily into Obi-Wan’s tight grip, letting Obi-Wan move him however he wanted. He could feel Obi-Wan’s pleasure at his compliance wash through the bond—Obi-Wan was letting him feel how much he liked it too. 

“See?” Obi-Wan smirked at him. “You do.”

“Yes,” Anakin swallowed, his breathing unsteady. Obi-Wan was just as hard as he was. An incredible surge of arousal swept through Anakin at the very idea that Obi-Wan might want to hurt him just as much as Anakin wanted to be hurt, and Anakin shared his desire back over the bond as an invitation. “I… _Yes_ , I do.” 

Obi-Wan gave him a satisfied look, his pupils blown. Anakin liked how smug he looked, how dangerous. He felt a rush of gratitude that someone as incredible as Obi-Wan had chosen him, chosen this—over the Council, over the Code. Obi-Wan always put him first; Obi-Wan always took care of him, and Anakin knew that he always would. “Thank you, _Master_.”

“My pleasure, _Padawan_ ,” Obi-Wan said with a dark chuckle, letting go of Anakin’s hips suddenly and giving him a light shove, pushing back off his lap and onto the floor. Anakin landed hard and looked up, huffing indignantly. Obi-Wan laughed. “Take off your clothes.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin grumbled, hastening to obey. 

“Good.” Obi-Wan stood up slowly; his movements were predatory. Anakin watched enthralled as Obi-Wan loomed over him, looking down at Anakin’s naked body with _intent_. “Now I want you to crawl to the ‘fresher and get in the shower.”

“Y-yes, Master,” Anakin said shakily. “Of course.” His breathing was rapid and shallow, he felt so hard and so warm. He moved to hands and knees as if in a daze, his body following instructions before he had time to think. He’d given control over to Obi-Wan completely. 

Obi-Wan sent him a wave of approval in the Force as Anakin happily crawled to the ‘fresher. “Very good, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, following him in. “Kneel in the shower and wait.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin smiled as he settled into a kneeling position, looking up eagerly. “Now what?”

“Wait,” Obi-Wan repeated, rolling his eyes when Anakin made a sad, impatient noise. He waved a hand, using the Force to turn on the water and make it hot. Anakin spluttered in surprise and then scowled as the water poured unexpectedly over his head, making Obi-Wan laugh quietly and radiate glee in the Force.

Anakin sighed and tipped his head back, letting the hot water wash over his face—feeling all his confusing thoughts slide away. He pushed into the feeling of Obi-Wan in the Force, wrapping himself up in Obi-Wan’s mind, burrowing into the comfortable heat he found there too. Obi-Wan let him in, opening the bond wide, surrounding him with a heady feeling of appreciation. 

Anakin opened his eyes in surprise when he felt three of Obi-Wan’s fingers suddenly push between his lips. Obi-Wan had stripped and joined him in the shower, closing the door behind him. The jet of water was very hot, and the air was thick and growing clouded with steam. They held eye contact for a long moment, and then Obi-Wan curled his fingers and pulled Anakin up hard by the jaw. Anakin whined and scrambled to his feet.

Obi-Wan grabbed his wrists and pushed him back against the wall, holding his hands above his head, kissing him in the same aggressive, possessive way as before. Anakin melted, letting Obi-Wan hold him up, his attention split between Obi-Wan’s mouth moving on his and the unexpected contact of Obi-Wan’s cock rubbing deliberately against Anakin’s, the smooth glide of the hot water between their skin. 

Anakin moaned, he was so aroused, so electrified, so overwhelmed—completely lost in the heat and the proximity of Obi-Wan’s body. He kissed him back desperately, meeting Obi-Wan’s urgency with his own, his own hips pressing forward, seeking contact.

“Very good, Padawan,” Obi-Wan quietly, dropping one more kiss on his lips before stepping back and reaching for the body wash. 

Anakin took a deep breath. He made sure to stand steady on his feet, leaning against the wall and waiting for further instructions. “Now what, Master?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Stay still. Be patient.” 

Anakin nodded in agreement and watched curiously as Obi-Wan knelt, dispensing the gel onto a washcloth and beginning to gently wash his way up Anakin’s right leg. It felt very nice to be taken care of like that, he loved when Obi-Wan took care of him. He sighed happily.

Obi-Wan suddenly pinched him painfully on the calf—Anakin’s breath caught and he made an involuntary noise deep in his throat. The sharp, unexpected sensation made his hips twitch, his cock throbbing. Obi-Wan immediately pinched him again even harder in the same spot, and then massaged the abused skin with the washcloth, soothing him. “No moving, Padawan.”

“Y-yes, Master, I’m _sorry,”_ Anakin said quickly, his chest was heaving. The sharp, surprising little jolts of pain had sent a burst of adrenaline into his system, and he felt even more aroused, his heart racing with exhilaration. “Please don’t stop, I won’t move again, I _promise_.”

“I don’t doubt your intention, darling, merely your commitment,” Obi-Wan said affectionately. “You’ll just get an extra one whenever you do, but presumably that is no hardship for you.” He slid the washcloth up behind Anakin’s knee, pinching him hard, and then pinching again when Anakin’s hips jerked, then rubbing and lathering the spot before moving on. 

“No… no hardship.” Anakin agreed, watching with fascination and dizzying arousal as Obi-Wan continued to pinch a line of marks up his inner thigh, gently swiping with the washcloth in between each sharp bite of pain. The alternation and differentiation between the sensations completely captivated his attention, the world narrowing to Obi-Wan’s rising progress up his leg, the hot water, the steam-thick air, the aching throb of his cock. 

Anakin was so incredibly hard, and Obi-Wan was ignoring the erection directly in front of his face. It was maddening, it was _wonderful_. Obi-Wan’s hands stopped at the apex of his inner thigh— _just_ before reaching where Anakin wanted him _most_ —and abruptly dropped to begin the process again from the bottom of the other leg. Anakin whined in frustration when he realized and Obi-Wan smirked up at him, taking his time.

The tip of Anakin’s cock was shiny with precome as well as water, now, and he was desperate to touch it, desperate to relieve the ache. He clenched his fists but did not move, knowing Obi-Wan wanted him to wait. It was almost torture, frustrating and _perfect_. He held himself as still as possible, trying to be good, gasping at Obi-Wan’s methodical alternation of sharp and soft.

Obi-Wan was moving up the inside of his left thigh now, dropping kisses between pinches, soothing with the washcloth, moving closer and closer to Anakin’s cock. Anakin held his breath, waiting and wanting, his eyes trying to pull Obi-Wan closer to his cock through the force of his gaze alone. 

Anakin wasn’t sure the last time he’d been this hard, this desperate for contact—this was something beyond his regular arousal, it was almost an agony of anticipation. He liked it, so, so much. Obi-Wan knew him _so well_.

Obi-Wan gave him a satisfied look, suddenly grabbing his hips, and spinning him around and pulling him backwards, making sure that Anakin’s hips were far enough from the wall to prevent relieving contact against his cock. Anakin whined loudly, “Oh, Master, _please_ , can’t you, why can’t I—”

“Shush, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said fondly. “Hands flat on the wall.” 

Obi-Wan sent his approval in the Force when Anakin unthinkingly obeyed the command. He began swiping the washcloth between Anakin’s legs, massaging his ass with the soft fabric, gently building up suds that made Anakin shiver and twitch. Anakin whined and pressed back into the touch, swaying his back and spreading his legs slightly, rolling his hips to make it easier for Obi-Wan to reach. He almost growled as Obi-Wan immediately moved back, letting the water rinse him clean. 

Obi-Wan laughed and pressed a soft kiss against the sensitive skin of his entrance before moving back. “Almost there.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin grumbled, pressing his forehead hard against the wall in frustration. Obi-Wan playfully bit the curve of his ass, teeth digging into the soft flesh, and Anakin pushed into the sensation, presenting himself as much as he could, desperate for more contact. Obi-Wan bit him again, even harder, before pulling back. Anakin begged in the Force, _“Please, more, Master, please…”_

Obi-Wan suddenly slapped his ass hard, and the wet smacking sound was very loud in the narrow stall. It _stung_ sharply and Anakin’s hips jerked, his mind whiting out for a moment before he began fervently begging, “I will do anything, please, Master, _please, do that again._ ” 

Obi-Wan laughed and obeyed twice more in rapid succession. Anakin felt like his ass was burning, it hurt so much, it felt so good. He panted, “Thank you, Master.”

“My pleasure, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, voice carrying a smile. He stood, dragging the washcloth slowly up Anakin’s spine before tossing it aside. “Did you like that?”

“ _Master_ —” Anakin whined incredulously, hips pressing back, “— _yes_ , of course I did, why are you stopping?”

“I rather thought you would prefer for me to _fuck_ you now, but I can go back…” Obi-Wan teased, leaning forward to bite his ear and giving his ass another hard smack. 

Anakin moaned and spoke quickly, “No, no, you were right, of course, you were right, _please_ , Master!” He spread his legs further and arched his back. “I want that.”

“Hmm…” Obi-Wan sounded deliberative. Anakin felt the blunt head of his thick cock pressing against his tight hole, and felt as Obi-Wan teased him with the tip. “Very well.”

_“Thank you, thank you,”_ Anakin projected in the Force, whimpering quietly and trying to keep breathing as Obi-Wan began to push himself inside. It was too much, too fast—it hurt, he wasn’t ready, there wasn’t lube, water wasn’t nearly enough. Obi-Wan grabbed his hips roughly and pressed harder, thrusting almost all the way in. Anakin groaned loudly as he took it, his forehead clunking back against the wall. “Ow…”

“Sorry, does that hurt?” Obi-Wan’s tone was unrepentant, his hips’ movement unceasing, sliding his cock in and out, faster and faster as Anakin got used to the stretch. Anakin shivered with pleasure as Obi-Wan’s attention in the Force swept through him, testing him, checking on him, sharing his own pleasure with him. Obi-Wan seemed to decide he was ready and mercilessly began to fuck him, making Anakin whine.

“Yes, Master, thank you,” Anakin said, his voice faint and shaky. Obi-Wan’s tight hold on his hips and the cool pressure of the wall on his forehead and palms were his only supports, Anakin felt weak and overwhelmed, the feeling of Obi-Wan’s thick cock moving fast in his body the only thing that was real. “It’s so good, it feels so good.” 

Obi-Wan hummed his approval, his hips speeding up even more, the sound of Anakin getting fucked growing louder and louder as his force increased. He smacked Anakin’s ass again, the other hand sliding up slowly from Anakin’s hip to Anakin’s neck, circling around his throat and holding him firmly. Anakin gasped with the realization that Obi-Wan would choke him while he fucked him, and nodded as much as he could against the wall. _“Please, yes, please, Master.”_

Obi-Wan’s grip tightened, squeezing on Anakin’s pulse point to restrict blood-flow rather than air. Anakin took a shaky breath, feeling already far too close to coming, Obi-Wan’s pleasure eddying in the Force, mixing with his. “You’re so precious to me, Anakin, giving yourself to me like this, thank you, dear boy, sweetheart, _Padawan_ , I needed this, I need you.” Obi-Wan’s other hand came around and firmly stroked Anakin’s cock, his wrist twisting slightly for the perfect amount of squeeze on the head.

Anakin gasped and came into Obi-Wan's hand, his orgasm crashing over him in overwhelming pulses of pleasure, so lightheaded he almost blacked out, his eyes full of stars. He collapsed entirely against the wall, the force Obi-Wan’s fucking him pushing him against it, trapping him between. He felt so secure, so safe, so incandescently happy as he spilled ropes of come, moaning loudly as he finished. Obi-Wan sucked his fingers clean, murmuring appreciation. Anakin smiled happily, still starry-eyed and growing dizzier.

Obi-Wan finally let go of his throat, both his arms sliding under and around Anakin’s shoulders, curling to hold him locked in place and pulling Anakin tight against his chest, fucking him through it all. Obi-Wan’s rhythm grew less certain, thrusting harder and deeper, until at last Obi-Wan came too, biting down hard on Anakin’s shoulder and groaning with satisfaction as he spilled his come inside Anakin’s tight body.

For a long moment, they stayed perfectly still, catching their breath. Anakin was in absolutely no hurry at all to move, he felt so happy exactly where he was, so shaky and overstimulated and wrung out. It was quiet in his mind, a completeness and a certainty of Obi-Wan’s physical and mental embrace. Anakin felt owned and he felt important. It was everything he sought for, everything he needed. He breathed out a sigh of relief, his heart full of the trust that lay between them. It was perfect.

Obi-Wan tilted Anakin’s head to the side and kissed him gently before pulling away, beginning to clean them both for real. “Very good, Anakin.”

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin’s mouth barely shaped the words, and he sent the rest in the Force. _“I need you too, more than you could ever need me, you’re everything to me, thank you so much.”_

Obi-Wan kissed him again, and Anakin sighed. He felt complete.

—

THE NEGOTIATOR

_Obi-Wan was standing alone in a large natural cave of reddish brown rock that had been ornately carved into a kind of temple. The golden light of sunset penetrated deep into the chamber and made the statues cast interesting shadows that seemed to move in the corner of his eye._

_Obi-Wan walked in cautiously, moving further into the cave towards the series of rising steps leading to the wide altar made of unfamiliar black stone. He examined the large silver knife that had been buried blade down in the altar, trying to parse the twisting form of writing filigreed onto the blade. It evaded clear perception._

_As Obi-Wan drew closer, sounds of trickling water and whispers grew louder and louder but remained equally elusive and incomprehensible. There was no water, there were no people; it was desert-dry and solitary, but the sounds teased his hearing nonetheless._

_Obi-Wan stepped further out of the rays of the setting sun and into a growing gloom. He blinked and there were suddenly two figures behind the altar—Anakin had appeared there, holding the arm of someone draped in a hooded black cloak, their face obscured in shadow except for a leering grin._

_Anakin looked soaking wet, vicious and triumphant, his eyes shining gold. His lips curled into a snarl at the sight of Obi-Wan, opening his mouth to speak, and—_

Obi-Wan woke up with a gasp. He frowned at the ceiling, his heart pounding in his chest. 

His comlink chimed; he ignored it. 

The vision from the dream repeated in his head, again and again. Anakin had looked _so angry_. Obi-Wan had never seen Anakin look at him like that before, never seen his golden eyes so clearly full of loathing. He had looked at Obi-Wan like he… like he _hated_ him.

Obi-Wan felt a surge of dread, and closed his eyes. 

At least he’d seen the Sith Master, _finally_ , proof that they did exist as something other than a phantom. To see Anakin at his side like that, though, was _torture_ —and now Obi-Wan could never forget. He wasn’t sure what to do with the information that Anakin would defect. He couldn’t process it. It was too big, too painful, too unacceptable. Would everything he’d done be for _nothing?_

He would not, _could_ not let that happen. 

His comlink chimed, and he grit his teeth. He needed to focus on the present. He couldn’t do anything else now. 

_Back to work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh ohhh!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for reading and I love hearing your thoughts. Your encouragement has made this fic what it is, and I'm really grateful at this moment. We're about to hit 500 kudos! That is SO COOL!!! You guys rock ❤️
> 
> Next chapter should be up soon! Perhaps we'll see our friends Dooku and Palpatine _in propria persona_ :)


	12. Resignation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a chapter we've been working towards for awhile! Sometimes you get answers, and sometimes answers cause problems. Hope you enjoy :)

FLORRUM

21BBY

“I still don't get it.”

“Get what?” Obi-Wan asked, cheerfully.

Anakin gestured vaguely to the chaos around them. “How a bunch of drunken pirates managed to catch Dooku when we couldn’t. We just spent months ripping the galaxy apart, and nothing.” He grumbled, playing with the glass in his hands, staring doubtfully at the green liquid inside.

It’s not as if Anakin had minded the last few months—far from it. The Council had allowed them to mostly spend them together, searching for Dooku as a team. They had grown so entangled in the Force, and so accustomed to each other’s presence. It was wonderful, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Pirates still shouldn’t have beaten them to the prize.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Maybe there's a lesson to be learned here.”

Anakin looked at him flatly. “I still don't get it, Master.”

“It's to remind us to be humble and never too proud to accept a gift when it comes our way.” Obi-Wan invented, speaking in a lofty, arrogant tone reminiscent of Anakin’s least favorite Jedi Elders. 

Anakin smirked and raised his glass. “Well, to unexpected gifts, then.”

“Hear, hear.” Obi-Wan tapped his against Anakin’s with a crooked smile, and drank.

Anakin smiled back, taking a sip and grimacing immediately. “Yuck!” He took another sip to confirm that it was terrible, and Obi-Wan laughed at him. The sound made his heart feel full. He pressed his knee against Obi-Wan’s beneath the table.

Obi-Wan returned the pressure, smiling at him gently. He drank the awful stuff with no visible sign of disgust. He’d always been much better at holding his liquor. Probably he just had more experience with drinking, but still. It was unfair. Anakin pouted slightly.

“What, Padawan?” Obi-Wan teased him. “I’ve had worse.”

“Gross, Master.” Anakin drank some more. “It’s really gross.”

Obi-Wan gave him a fond look. Anakin’s chest hurt slightly and took another sip. He knew their time together was running out, that they would be split up once Dooku was in custody. It was unimaginable to consider being forced to the other side of the galaxy from what felt like his center of gravity. 

Obi-Wan’s hand curled into his, squeezing tightly. He spoke over the bond. _“It will be alright, Padawan. I will get us paired again as soon as I can.”_

Anakin looked at him desperately before looking away. _“I don’t want to go back to Coruscant without you, Master.”_

Obi-Wan sighed, running his hand over his face, scratching his beard. “They will assign us out with other Jedi for a while. We knew it was coming eventually, but it will not be forever.”

Anakin felt slightly woozy, and looked back at his glass and frowned. “This… this is really strong.” His mouth felt clumsy. When Obi-Wan didn’t immediately reply, Anakin lifted his head and looked curiously over. Obi-Wan was frowning at his glass with a deeply offended look. His eyes were slightly glassy, and his face was growing flushed. 

“It really is strong, probably too strong. We are almost certainly in trouble.” Obi-Wan spoke extremely deliberately, and Anakin giggled. Obi-Wan already sounded drunk, which was bad, but Anakin couldn’t take it seriously. He laughed again when Obi-Wan huffed at him, crossing his arms in an exaggerated movement. 

“Yes, Master,” Anakin slurred happily. He went to take another sip and Obi-Wan pushed him in the shoulder, making him spill on himself. “Hey!”

“No more, young one, we’re done,” Obi-Wan’s speech was slow, as if he was sounding out each syllable individually. 

Anakin stood abruptly, swaying slightly. He slurred, “I don’t feel good. I wanna use the ‘fresher, Master, tell me where it is, please.”

Obi-Wan grabbed a handful of his sleeve and stood up too. His feet were placed wide apart for balance, and Anakin giggled again. Obi-Wan stuck out his tongue at him, and Anakin leaned forward, drawn almost magnetically to kiss him.

Obi-Wan put up a hand, catching his forward momentum. “We… we are in public!” He sounded completely scandalized, and it was the cutest thing Anakin thought he’d ever heard.

“Oh, fine, fine, fine,” Anakin grumbled. He stumbled forward when Obi-Wan removed his hand and started to pull him towards the hallway. 

Anakin was only vaguely aware of the chaos around them now, the noise and movement blurring together into a hazy background. All he could see was Obi-Wan, all he could feel was Obi-Wan’s grip on his arm.

“I think,” Obi-Wan said slowly, looking left and right and frowning at the empty corridor. “I think it’s this way. This way.” He pulled Anakin around a dark corner and pushed him against the wall, kissing him with all the desperation that Anakin felt. 

Anakin melted, kissing him back. Nothing else mattered except the sweet pressure of Obi-Wan’s mouth on his, the soft slide of his lips, the scratch of his beard, the warmth of his tongue licking between his lips. Anakin whined, reaching out and pulling him close.

It felt like everything was spinning, and he pulled back with a gasp. Obi-Wan moved to kiss his neck. “I really feel… Master, I feel dizzy.”

Obi-Wan nodded, his nose and mouth nuzzling Anakin’s neck. Anakin held him tightly, and they both slid down the wall, landing in an ungraceful pile. Anakin giggled and Obi-Wan murmured, “We’re in trouble, sweetheart.”

“Yeah… What else is new.” 

—

Obi-Wan woke up slowly and then all at once. He lifted his head and shook it once, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. His eyes landed on Anakin’s prone body, bound with a length of blue electrified cord around his waist and wrists. He felt a surge of anxiety and tried to move closer. He immediately noticed he was tied too, and frowned in frustration, shuffling with bound hands.

He checked Anakin’s pulse, turning him on to his back to look at his face. Obi-Wan exhaled loudly in relief when he discovered Anakin was fine, if still drugged. He pushed Anakin’s messy hair back off his forehead affectionately, thinking of how they got into this mess in the first place. His own recollections still felt very foggy from the presumably drugged drink.

“It would be better for the galaxy if you let me kill him now.”

“What?” Obi-Wan looked over sharply, only then realizing that Count Dooku was in the same cell, attached by the same kind of cord to the far wall. 

Dooku sneered. “You should kill him now, and do the galaxy a favor.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, bemused. “Why in the Force would I do that?”

Dooku raised a hand and sent a wave of Force compulsion that Obi-Wan’s foggy mind didn’t have the reflex to block. He sucked in a gasp before he realized it was merely pushing Anakin further into sleep. He glared at Dooku, and Dooku gave him an evaluating stare.

“It’s only a matter of time until Sidious calls him home.”

“Home?” Obi-Wan echoed, sitting down heavily in the shadowy cell and staring at Dooku with wary eyes.

“Yes,” Dooku said, tone dry. He tapped his hand on the floor. “He isn’t yours to keep, you should know this. Sidious is letting you manage him out of convenience. He isn’t ready.”

“Letting me? He’s not ready for what?” Obi-Wan asked, heart racing. “Sidious isn’t ready? Or Anakin isn’t?”

“Both, I presume.” Dooku shrugged slightly. “I know Sidious is waiting for the war to end to show he’s holding _pure sabacc_ in his hand.”

“What are you talking about, _Tyranus?”_ Obi-Wan studied his face. Dooku betrayed no surprise at his use of his Sith name. “What does your Master want with Anakin?”

Dooku gave him a flat look. “You know what he wants.”

“I assure you, I do not,” Obi-Wan replied waspishly. 

“Interesting,” Dooku said. He tipped his head to the side and looked smug. “What _have_ you been doing with that holocron if not talking to it? You certainly haven’t given it to the Temple Archives.”

It felt like the floor fell out beneath Obi-Wan, his stomach plummeting down and away. He felt sick, he felt foolish, he felt angry. He lifted every single shield around his mind in the Force he could muster, relaxed every single muscle in his body. He would give away nothing. His voice came out curious, but distant. “What holocron?”

Dooku gave him an amused look, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. “Darth Solon, obviously.”

“Did _you_ give him to me?” Obi-Wan said, hands trembling slightly. He shook his head again, trying to purge the remnants of the drug. He needed to be thinking as clearly as possible. “Was he yours all along?”

“Not _all_ along,” Dooku said precisely. “Sidious loaned him to me years ago, when I first became his Apprentice. He took him back eventually. When he requested that Anakin be tested, the holocron went to Yavin 4.”

“Tested?” Obi-Wan growled. The magnitude of the implications hit him, and he swallowed down a swell of hot anger.

“Yes, tested,” Dooku nodded, and his lip curled. “He confirmed to Sidious _what he is_ when he heard the summoning and entered the temple. Though,” Dooku’s eyes studied Obi-Wan. “Sidious expected you to immediately turn the holocron over to the Temple, and has been rather curious as to its location ever since. We both know he’s wrong to be curious, don’t we?”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked shortly. “What do you mean?”

“I could help you with the eye problem, you know. It’s remarkable you haven’t already been caught out. Almost impressive, _Master_ _Kenobi_.” Dooku sounded teasing, and the familiarity in the tone felt like sandpaper against Obi-Wan’s spine.

“Eye problem?” Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “I would greatly appreciate more clarity, Dooku.”

“Your eyes are flashing gold,” Dooku smiled wolfishly. “Are you _very_ angry with me? You are such a fool.”

Obi-Wan felt a surge of loathing, the pool of darkness in his Force signature roiling with desire to snap Dooku’s neck. He didn’t doubt it was pushing through to his face. “Why is it foolish to despise you? After everything you’ve done to the galaxy? To me?”

Dooku explained as if Obi-Wan were a child. “I’m the only one standing between your precious _Padawan_ and Sidious. I do you a favor by merely existing. Without me, the boy would be lost to you. You’re welcome.”

Obi-Wan licked his lips and tried to process. “What do you want, Dooku?”

“I want you to stop being a fool!” Dooku’s voice spiked in volume. “You need to be more careful with Skywalker, and stop sending him to Sidious!”

“What?” Obi-Wan glared. “What are you talking about?”

“Fool,” Dooku repeated in a dismissive undertone. “How you’ve managed to remain blind to one of the most obvious facts about reality astonishes and disappoints me. I had hoped you would be a worthy ally.”

“I will not be your ally,” Obi-Wan snarled back. “Ever. Do you have any idea the magnitude of what you’ve done to the lives of billions of innocent sentients? Did you even deign to visit Ryloth to see the fruits of your labors? It’s only been a year, _Darth_ _Tyranus_ , and already the suffering is unforgivably heinous. I knew this would happen when you decided to _start a galactic civil war_.” His voice was getting louder and louder as his control grew tenuous. He cut himself off and swallowed.

Dooku was smiling indulgently as he ranted. “The Sith Master is Chancellor Palpatine, Obi-Wan.”

_What? No…_

Obi-Wan’s eyes unfocused, his heart stopped, and his ears rang. He asked weakly, “…What?”

“Last time we met, you said I couldn’t possibly need an army to defeat a single Sith.” Dooku raised an eyebrow at him. “You are wrong, I did and I do. Sidious has the entire Republic at his disposal for self preservation.”

“Palpatine?” Obi-Wan repeated shakily. His eyes snapped back to Anakin’s face, his heart rushing back to life with a torrent of adrenaline. _Fear,_ he realized. It was fear, what he was feeling. He suddenly felt wide awake, his mind painfully clear. “The Chancellor is a Sith? All along? He’s been _hiding_ in _plain_ _sight?”_

“Yes,” Dooku confirmed. “I personally wouldn’t call a Sith ruling the galaxy _hiding_ , but call it what you will. Not all Sith have their faces tattooed red, Obi-Wan.” He gave him an almost pitying look. “Obviously.”

“How?” Obi-Wan glared fiercely back. “How could he possibly hide from the entire Jedi Council?”

“As my old Master would say,” Dooku’s eyes glinted malevolently. _“Difficult to see, the dark side is._ Palpatine is tremendously powerful with the dark side. More powerful than you can even begin to fathom. _”_

Obi-Wan was quiet, his thoughts racing almost too fast to be coherent. He was struggling to reconcile the information with his previous understanding of reality. A question slipped out, betraying his priorities: “He wants Anakin?”

“Yes, Obi-Wan,” Dooku confirmed again, his tone long-suffering. He cut off Obi-Wan’s next question. “I would ask Solon _why_ , it’s really his story to tell.”

Obi-Wan stared at the wall, trying to catch up. “Why are you telling me this? Why did you tell me his name in the first place? Are you trying to kill your Master? Is he trying to kill you?” 

“Yes to both, I suppose,” Dooku chuckled. “It is the way of the Sith. But that is not the reason I told you, no.”

“Why, then?” Obi-Wan asked, feeling defeated. The scope of the problem was too big, bigger than he’d ever imagined. _The Sith had truly, really already won_. “Why me?”

Dooku leaned his head back against the wall, sounding wistful. “Qui-Gon told me things about you, back when you were still very young. Told me about your powers, your dreams.”

“He did?” Obi-Wan frowned, trying to remember seeing Dooku or hearing Qui-Gon ever mention him. “I didn’t realize you were still communicating at that point.”

“We were,” Dooku nodded. “He wanted my advice about how to train you. Not that he took it, but at least he asked.” His voice grew more arrogant. “As it is my duty to not only destroy the Sith but to rebuild it, better and stronger than before, you have always been on my list of candidates to join my new Order. You have the natural talent.”

“Wait, stop,” Obi-Wan said, holding up his hands in a warding-off gesture. “Your duty? Where did you get that idea?” 

Dooku smiled. “Qui-Gon, actually.”

“What?” Obi-Wan spat. “No, that is an obscene lie, Dooku.”

“He was always so fond of old legends, old stories. I’m sure you remember.” Obi-Wan nodded unwillingly. He loathed sharing precious memories with someone he hated quite this much. “One day he told me a very interesting story, one that I never forgot, about the Sith’ari.”

“What?” Obi-Wan used every shred of willpower available to keep his face blank. It was incredibly surreal to hear that word come out of a mouth that was not Solon’s. 

“The Sith have their own prophecy of the Chosen One, but it is different from the Jedi’s,” Dooku said in a lecturing tone, reciting grandly: “The Sith’ari will be free of limits. The Sith’ari will lead the Sith and destroy them. The Sith’ari will raise the Sith from death, and make them stronger than before.”

“Qui-Gon told you all that?” Obi-Wan asked, feeling numb. 

“He did not tell me the full text of the prophecy, no. I don’t believe he knew it. He only reported that the Sith also had a prophecy of the Chosen One, and the title. Darth Solon told me the rest.”

“So…” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Just because a holocron of _dubious integrity_ calls you the Sith’ari, you decide it’s your responsibility to go along with it?”

“No,” Dooku frowned at him. “Solon never called me the Sith’ari, that’s not how it works.”

“It’s… it’s not?” Obi-Wan asked blankly. _Then why…_

“That is the passivity of a Jedi. A Sith takes ownership, a Sith decides their own fate. I am the Sith’ari, I know it, and I will accomplish my goals with or without your aid.” Dooku sneered again. “I suppose it’s not a surprise Solon didn’t tell _you_ any of this, if this is your attitude.”

“Solon has… Solon has not been very forthcoming, apparently.” Obi-Wan’s tone was resentful, and he coughed. “What do you want from me?”

Dooku gave him a long, level look. “Stop trying to kill me. Help me destroy Sidious. Surely you recognize that the enemy of your enemy is your best ally.”

“In the _very_ short term, I suppose,” Obi-Wan drawled. He considered it despite himself. “It seems as if you’re just postponing our fight to the death.”

Dooku shrugged. “If you like, yes.”

“Let me think about it,” Obi-Wan said, turning back to look at Anakin’s peaceful resting face. The cell was very quiet for an extended pause. He was desperate to understand how this information changed his plans—and it did change everything. 

The Sith was already clearing the board, he’d known that. This was something else. Palpatine was already in position to take over. There would be no power vacuum after the war unless Palpatine died, and Palpatine would be harder to kill than Obi-Wan could ever have predicted.

_Darth kriffing Solon must have taught him everything he knows._

Obi-Wan wanted very badly to have the holocron in front of him, and a turbohammer. He wanted to see it smashed into so many pieces that even the Force could never reassemble it. He wanted to turn it into dust, and eject the dust into the burning heart of a star.

“You cannot tell Skywalker about Palpatine,” Dooku abruptly warned. “He cannot know.”

Obi-Wan shot him a displeased frown. “Why?”

“Sidious will kill every single Jedi when he finds out that you know, and your _boy—_ ” Dooku’s tone was immeasurably snide. “Reports everything.” 

“He does, doesn’t he,” Obi-Wan said slowly. “He always has.” Obi-Wan sighed, hating himself. “Palpatine must have been grooming him for this since he was a child. I wish...” He cut himself off. He hadn’t had much of a choice over the years about Anakin’s visits, and had always tried to dissuade or distract but to no avail. The Chancellor was always too present, too powerful.

_He should have known._

“What do you want from me?” Obi-Wan asked again, looking intently at Dooku. The world had pivoted on its axis. Somehow Dooku had managed to accomplish the previously inconceivable. One sentence had toppled everything, and all of Obi-Wan’s inhibitions had been overwhelmed with one fact. _One threat to Anakin._ “How can I help?”

Dooku smiled, and it looked almost genuine. “Do you know the Sith Code?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said dismissively. “What of it?”

“Repeat it for me.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and recited tonelessly. “Peace is a lie, there is only passion; through passion I gain strength; through strength I gain power; through power I gain victory; through victory my chains are broken.” He swallowed and looked back at Anakin. “The Force shall free me.”

“Good,” Dooku nodded. “I hereby name you Darth Mendax.”

“What?” Obi-Wan recoiled, giving him a horrified look. “You can’t, I’m not...”

“Did you not kill Darth Maul?” Dooku asked in a knowing tone.

“Who? What?” Obi-Wan shook his head, head still ringing with the name _Darth_ _Mendax._ It felt too right, like the knowledge had always been there, waiting for him to acknowledge it. He must have heard it a million times in his dreams. If it really was his destiny, why had he forgotten?

“The Zabrak on Naboo, the Sith Apprentice who killed Qui-Gon. I heard you cut him in half,” Dooku said with a dark gleam in his eyes. “A fact that I appreciated greatly at the time, and still appreciate now.”

“I… I did that, yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. He felt nauseated. _Mendax._

“You’ve already fulfilled the terms, then. You’ve killed a Sith, so a Sith you are.”

“Phenomenal.” Obi-Wan’s voice was bone dry. 

“Now, about the eyes—” Dooku began, his voice almost excited. Obi-Wan looked at him, really seeing him, for perhaps the first time. This was Qui-Gon’s Master, another lost Jedi wandering in the dark. Just like him. He had no moral high ground anymore. At least he’d killed a few million fewer sentients. 

_So far._ A voice in his head whispered. _Could it really only be a matter of time?_

Obi-Wan swallowed and readjusted his posture into a more traditional cross-legged learning posture and rested his chin on his hands. He was literally tied down. He might as well learn now. Dooku asked, “Are you familiar with the basic theory of Force illusions?”

Obi-Wan nodded. His eyes fell back on Anakin, watching his chest softly rise and fall. He looked so peaceful. It no longer surprised Obi-Wan that he would defect. Not at all.

Palpatine must die. _Soon._

—

THE NEGOTIATOR

Obi-Wan slammed the door to his cabin, and lifted the holocron with the Force as he activated it. He spun it precariously over the edge of the desk to hover at eye height in the center of the room, fully prepared to crush it. 

“What’s this?” Solon sounded wary.

“I finally had a chance to talk alone with Dooku.” Obi-Wan said, eyes narrowed. “Explain to me why I shouldn’t drop you out of the airlock, Darth Solon. You’ve been lying to me the entire time!” He had drawn nearer as he’d been talking, and they were almost eye to eye. “Lying about the most important information I needed!” 

He was feeling as incandescent with anger at that moment as he had been since he’d learned the history of the holocron, and he eyed the flickering figure dangerously. 

Solon crossed his arms. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Lies of omission _are_ lies!” Obi-Wan shouted. “I do it all the time! I know the game, Solon! Tell me the _whole_ truth. Not the truth _from a certain point of view!”_

“Why should I do that?” Solon snapped back at him. “It was never the right time. It still isn’t right!”

Obi-Wan’s voice was menacing. “Are you working for Sidious? Are you trying to help the Sith?”

“Yes, _of course_ I’m trying to help the Sith! I _am_ a Sith, but I am not trying to help the _Baneite_ Sith! I’m trying to _end_ the Rule of Two! You don’t understand what’s at stake.” Solon’s tone had grown very defensive. “Darth Sidious is trying to make himself _immortal_ , and that cannot be allowed to happen.”

“Immortal?” Obi-Wan swallowed, shoulders lowering fractionally. “Palpatine… How?”

“Well,” Solon looked slightly pleased now. Obi-Wan glared and his smile dropped as he hastened to explain. “I let him draw some wrong conclusions from incomplete information, and now he believes he knows the formula for a Sith binding to tie himself to life. The spell does something different than he thinks.” 

“Why can’t I just kill Sidious now, and prevent him casting it at all?” Obi-Wan asked slowly. “Death seems like a good solution to potential immortality. He _needs to die_ before he takes Anakin away.”

“No!” Solon furrowed his brow. “You need to let him live. He already has clones waiting for his consciousness, among other contingency plans, and he is as close to practically immortal as he can get, so trying to kill him would be a futile distraction for now.” He took a breath. “Much more importantly—Sidious is seeking something else, and it is important that he finds it. I need him to make the attempt and fail, as his failure will allow you to break the curse.”

_“The curse.”_ Obi-Wan moved back and sat down heavily. The room was very quiet. It was absurd. Obi-Wan didn’t feel like he knew what direction was up anymore. “Are you joking?”

“Unfortunately not,” Solon said, voice austere.

“What kind of curse? What does this have to do with Anakin? Why does he need him?” Obi-Wan asked doubtfully. Solon was silent, but looked vaguely guilty. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Dooku said that it was your story to tell, so tell me, Solon, or I swear I really will drop you out the airlock.”

“My holocron was not sitting untouched in that temple for four thousand years.” Solon sounded almost apologetic. “It was taken, and I have been spoken with many times over the years.”

“Handing out the wrong information to the wrong people at the wrong time?” Obi-Wan scoffed and sighed. “I should have guessed.”

“I thought…” Solon pursed his lips in frustration. “Darth Bane should _not_ have survived casting it. It should have killed him. I told him the formula so that he would die. He did not die, and the entire galaxy is suffering, Obi-Wan.”

“Darth Mendax, actually,” Obi-Wan snarled at him. “You should address me properly, after everything that you’ve done to me.”

Solon shrugged. “Fine, Mendax.”

“Let’s be perfectly clear.” Obi-Wan’s tone was dripping with disdain. “Darth Bane did some kind of Sith magic and cursed the entire galaxy a thousand years ago, and it’s _all your fault.”_

Solon nodded once. “Yes.”

“And you have subsequently been in the Line of Bane ever since, trying to manipulate them into breaking this… curse?”

“No,” Solon shook his head sadly. “I couldn’t. It’s not possible to break without a Midichlor.”

“So you’ve been waiting for Anakin?” Obi-Wan glared. “What does Anakin have to do with it?”

“Everything.” Solon sighed. “Everything, Sith’ari.”

“Sith’ari…” Obi-Wan stared at him. “Dooku said that you never called him the Sith’ari, is that true?”

“No, I didn’t,” Solon agreed immediately. “He is _not_ the Sith’ari. He just believes that he is, and it was _useful_ for him to do so." 

“Useful,” Obi-Wan sneered. “You’re just a holocron! You should not be able to exercise this much _kriffing_ judgment!”

“I’m not a Jedi data cube.” Solon’s voice was full of derision. “I have more agency than you realize.” Obi-Wan glared at him and Solon glared back. ”You’re welcome for the army, by the way. Without me, Dooku would never have built them for you.”

“You mean the clones? They are hardly _for me.”_

“Dooku manipulated their control chips to be loyal to the Sith’ari first. Do you see? Do you see why it was so _useful_ for him to believe he was building an army for himself?” Solon sounded almost proud of himself. “You’re welcome.” 

“Control chips?” Obi-Wan asked coolly. He wasn’t sure if there was any hideous fact that could surprise him at this point. 

Solon shrugged. “Control chips.”

“We’re _certainly_ going to come back to that.” Obi-Wan began to pace. “However, you have failed so far to explain the nature of this _curse_.”

“What you must understand is that as opposed to light that radiates, darkness _consolidates_.” Solon’s voice was increasingly grave. “As people gain power over others, they hoard that power all to themselves. The dark is supposed to be as equally distributed as the light. _That’s balance_. As long as there are sentients who seek to live—who feel fear, anger, and desire—and use that energy to save and propagate themselves, there should be concentrations of darkness in each.”

Obi-Wan gave him a pointed look. “What’s the problem, then?”

Solon pursed his lips. “The _problem_ is that by nature the dark can be _stolen_ through bondage. Slavery harvests emotions and leaves the slaves hopeless and in shadow. They feed the energy of their darkness—of their _agency—_ to their master. In this way, darkness tends to concentrate up the hierarchy, and the master grows in strength.”

“That sounds bad,” Obi-Wan allowed. _It sounded like what he did to Anakin._

“Yes.” Solon nodded, unaware of Obi-Wan’s blooming internal crisis. “At a certain point, darkness must be redistributed back to those who need it or else the cycle ends with complete subjugation and total passivity. That is unacceptable. Sith grow the darkness by collecting it, but when they get too strong, the Sith’ari redistributes that darkness out, hopefully giving the galaxy a larger share each cycle. More hope. More will-to-live.” Solon sighed. “Or else the galaxy decays.”

“This has happened before?” Obi-Wan asked. It was satisfying to finally be getting some answers for why nobody was revolting against the corrupt institutions that oppressed them—if everyone was sapped of their vital energy. Nobody had any emotions to use to defend themselves, no righteous indignation. It was all stolen, extracted. That, at least, made so much sense. 

“It is the natural consequence of the ideology of the Sith and consistent with the inherent laws of the Force, so yes.” Solon said in a clipped tone. “The core of the prophecy is tens of thousands of years old, I do not know exactly. It is cyclical, it repeats and applies over and over. As a _Sith_ prophecy, it is never complete, always contested. I suspect it is actually an ancient spell, but again,” Solon frowned. “I do not know.” 

“What does this have to do with Darth Bane? With Anakin? With _me?”_ Obi-Wan asked insistently.

“Bane…” Solon sighed. “He used the death of a Midichlor to create a siphon on a galactic scale, leeching and concentrating the darkness. His followers have been hoarding power for a thousand years, letting everyone else persist with mere shadows as they grew in strength. Only a Midichlor can undo it by killing Sidious in the same way. Direct reversal.”

“So Anakin must kill Palpatine in a special way, is that it?” Obi-Wan said. 

“In a special place, yes,” Solon nodded. “The darkness _must_ then be redistributed. That is your task, Sith’ari.”

“Is there...” Obi-Wan swallowed. “Will there be a silver knife?”

Solon smiled widely. “Yes, there will be. You’ve seen it then.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I’ve only seen that Anakin will be there with Sidious, and that he will _hate_ me. I can’t let that happen.”

“You must,” Solon said seriously. “You must _trust_ that you are the true Sith’ari.”

“How many people have you told or encouraged to believe they are this… Chosen One?” Obi-Wan asked hopelessly. “Why should that title mean anything to me, when you seem to use it so liberally?”

“You _are_ the Sith’ari. You’ve had the dreams, you’ve followed their commands. You’ve partaken of the flesh of the Midichlor, made yourself one in the Force. He _already_ belongs to you. It doesn’t matter whether you _believe_ it or not, although it would certainly be expedient for you to do so.” Solon seemed to make up his mind. “I know how to convince you that I am sincere.” 

The black pyramid of the holocron beneath the figure abruptly split open, revealing an inner chamber bathed in a red light. Obi-Wan frowned at the unexpected glow. “This is the lightsaber crystal of Darth Solon. I’ve carried it for thousands of years. It is yours.”

“What?” Obi-Wan drew nearer, and was overwhelmed in the Force by the intensity of emotions radiating from the small red shard. It screamed with indignation, even after all that time. His hand reached out without thinking, but he pulled it back before touching it. “You cannot give this to me.”

“Why not, Darth Mendax?” Solon gave him a dry look. “Or are you going to bleed your crystal yourself?”

Obi-Wan swallowed. “I don’t need or want a red blade.” 

“You will,” Solon said, closing the pyramid. “It’s here for you, when you do.”

“Fantastic.” Obi-Wan sat back on his bed and ran his hands through his hair anxiously.

“Master?” Anakin sounded worried. Obi-Wan looked to his left and realized that the bond had connected. “What’s fantastic?”

“Nothing, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said quietly. Anakin frowned and slid his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, squeezing him gently. Obi-Wan made eye contact with Solon. “Everything’s fine.” 

—

CORUSCANT

“Sometimes I worry that Obi-Wan isn’t telling me something important.” Anakin sighed. “I wish he would trust me more.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Palpatine said, tone reassuring. He offered Anakin a platter full of different tea cakes. “You have such a strong bond, it would be such an egregious breach of trust for him to lie to you. No… That’s too unlikely.”

“I don’t think he’s _lying_ , really.” Anakin shrugged, shifting on the couch and staring glumly at the red walls of the Chancellor’s office. “I’m being paranoid I guess. He’s just been acting funny, not talking to me as much as he used to.” _He missed Obi-Wan, so much, already…_

“It’s probably nothing important. Master Kenobi is much too honest, he would know better than to lie to you _by omitting things_. I’m sure he cares about you too much to do that.”

Anakin wrinkled his nose slightly. “I guess he doesn’t have to tell me everything all the time.”

“I think you’re just been spending too much time together, it might make it difficult to keep straight what he has and has not told you.” Palpatine laughed gently. “He does keep you on a very short leash.”

Anakin blushed. “No, he doesn’t. We just work well together.”

“Yes, you do,” Palpatine’s voice was very kind. “The holoNet has been eating up all the footage of these last few months. Quite a series of daring adventures you two have been on. Did you see what they’re calling you?”

“It’s ‘the Team’ thing again, isn’t it?” Anakin laughed. “I don’t know where they come up with this stuff.”

Palpatine smiled encouragingly. “They’re calling you The Hero With No Fear.” 

“That’s stupid,” Anakin said sheepishly. “I have plenty of fear.”

“You accomplish such incredible things, though. Things that absolutely nobody else could do. It is very impressive, my boy.”

Anakin felt a glow of pride. “Thank you, Chancellor.”

Palpatine nodded agreeably. “I’ve seen that they’re calling Master Kenobi ‘the Negotiator.’ He’s very good at getting what he wants, and telling people what they need to hear, isn’t he?”

“He’s good at talking to people,” Anakin nodded. He took a bite of a new kind of cake and raised his eyebrows. “I like these new ones a lot!”

“I’ll make a note of it,” Palpatine said cheerfully. “Try these, the chocolate is especially fine.” 

“Obi-Wan can make anybody happy,” Anakin said, happily taking a bite. “I remember on Florrum even Dooku didn’t look like he wanted to kill him as much as usual. Once I woke up he got angry again pretty fast though. I don’t think Dooku likes me very much.” He smiled in satisfaction at that fact.

Palpatine’s hands paused before smoothly finishing bringing his teacup to his lips and setting it down delicately. “Count Dooku and Master Kenobi were talking on Florrum? How strange. I don’t remember reading anything about that in the briefing.”

Anakin shrugged. “I don’t think they said anything important. Obi-Wan would have told me, I think.”

“I’m sure,” Palpatine said quietly. “I’m sure he would have told you. It would be treason, otherwise.”

Anakin looked up with a frown. “What? Obi-Wan isn’t a traitor.”

Palpatine’s face cleared, and he smiled kindly. “I’m sure you’re right. Master Kenobi is a great Jedi Master. There’s no way that he would ever betray you and the Republic to talk illicitly with Dooku.”

“No...” Anakin’s forehead creased for a moment. “He wouldn’t do that. Obi-Wan hates Dooku.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it!” Palpatine’s laugh made Anakin smile. “That would be quite a lie, wouldn’t it.”

“Yes,” Anakin’s smile slipped away and he played with his teacup. “It would be.”

He missed Obi-Wan, so much, already, _always._ He craved him, ached for him, _needed him_. Obi-Wan was so far away, and Anakin felt like he was falling apart, his moods were so unstable. It almost _hurt…_

"More tea?" Palpatine offered him the teapot, and Anakin shook his head.

"No, thank you." He smiled gratefully. _At least he always had the Chancellor_. "I'm good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are....... getting worse! As long promised. Oh, _splendide mendax,_ you liar for a good cause, what have you done, what will you do?
> 
> Thanks for reading, your comments, kudos and support!! It makes writing incredibly fun, and I'm so glad to hear that you're enjoying (or _concerned about Obi-Wan's choices_ , which I am also haha). 
> 
> Next chapter should be up in about a week! ❤️


	13. Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took less time to write than I expected! I hope you enjoy... things are sliding sideways! ❤️

CORUSCANT

Late 21BBY

Obi-Wan shifted to rest his ankle on his knee, resettling on his Council chair. The war had been an ongoing parade of horrors these last few months—months he’d spent passing by Anakin like ships in the night. Without the bond, they would have not have had the chance to see each other outside of battle since they were split up after Florrum. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t terribly upset that Dooku had escaped from Hondo, but everyone else had been frustrated. Obi-Wan knew that Dooku _actually_ being captured and brought to visit his Master would have just ended up with Dooku’s escape or death. As attractive as the latter prospect was, Obi-Wan could count the number of allies he had against Palpatine on one hand. 

One finger. _Kriffing_ _Dooku._

Darth Solon definitely did not count. Obi-Wan had not felt particularly charitable towards the holocron since the revelations of just how much he had kept secret. Solon continued to teach him about the dark side, and attempted to guide him—Obi-Wan begrudgingly took his instruction, for lack of better available alternatives. 

Dooku’s advice on Florrum had helped him maintain his cover, disguising his Force signature and his eyes. He had no way to be sure, but he suspected that these days they would be burning gold half the time—he was always so _angry_. His strength in the dark side continued to grow, a vast and expanding pool of energy that remained inexplicably hidden. It baffled him that nobody could sense anything at all behind his containing shields. 

Somehow Obi-Wan could keep his mind totally to himself, think and feel things entirely without the recognition of anyone in the room. Even Yoda appeared not to be able to sense his feelings, beyond what he projected. It was _inexplicable_. 

They were all satisfied with appearances, all hypocrites.

Obi-Wan realized that he had been pretending so long that nobody around seemed to even remember who he was as a youngling, how eager to fight, how eager to defend. How angry it was possible for him to get, if he knew he was in the right. Even Yoda, whose age made it seem as though he should remember Obi-Wan’s youth as if it were yesterday—even he was caught in the illusion.

Everyone saw the _perfect_ Jedi.

It made him want to laugh, made him want to scream. The other Jedi on the Council were so docile, and so afraid. The Sith were literally giving them marching orders and they refused to figure out how and why. They had agreed to be Generals for the Sith’s _Clone Army_. It was just as indefensible that day as it had been on the first. 

More than a year and a half into the war, and Obi-Wan was still stunned by the choices of the Council. What kind of true Jedi would agree to use sentients who had been born and trained for the slaughter? Why didn’t they ask if the war was even truly necessary? Why didn’t they insist on drafting an army the normal way, asking for recruits, training them? Was it because it was _easier_ to use slaves? 

_The clones were far better men than anyone sitting in this room…_

The Council was currently listening to a difficult briefing from Master Tiin, who had been discussing the lack of progress in his ongoing siege, the growing number of casualties. Obi-Wan ground his teeth, stroking his beard and looking intentionally neutral and pensive.

The room went oddly quiet, Obi-Wan heard his heartbeat, his breath. He sighed, made sure that his posture was fixed, his face smooth. It was extremely inconvenient when the bond connected around other Jedi, let alone the entirety of the Council—but he still felt a swell of excitement, of relief. He very much wanted to see Anakin. His eyes began to scan the room. 

Suddenly, there he was—Anakin was lying prone, bleeding, _crushed_ , on the floor of the Council chamber. His pain and anxiety flooded through Obi-Wan’s mind, a wave of suffering that made Obi-Wan’s heart stop and then begin to pound. Nobody else could see Anakin, of course. Only Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan swallowed and repressed his reaction. His façade did not crack, but it was the closest he’d ever yet come to breaking.

Anakin was very injured. He and Master Windu had been sent to Vanqor to look for survivors and investigate the crash site of the Endurance. _There was no reason that he should be this hurt._ Obi-Wan took a controlled breath. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t indicate that he was aware of Anakin’s presence at all. 

Obi-Wan urgently pushed a question through the Force, acknowledging the connection.

Anakin began to mumble. “I really wish I could ask Obi-Wan about Jango Fett.” That meant that he was not alone, good. Master Windu must still be alive. “That was awful to see, the crew being massacred like that. I don’t understand why Fett’s helmet had a bomb inside it.” He paused as if listening to a response, and shifted minutely. “I hope Arfour can get the message to Coruscant, how we need assis—” He groaned and flinched. Then he disappeared. 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. 

He had found out early on that if he focused, he could control the mechanism on his comlink to sound a chime, which was extremely useful for appearing to have a source for information that he should not have. He used that power, and his com lit up. He glanced around apologetically, and pretended to pull up a text communication on his datapad.

He sat up straight. “Excuse me, Master Tiin, I apologize. I have urgent news, may I interrupt?” The severe Iktotchi nodded his head and fell silent. “Master Windu and Anakin are in trouble on Vanqor. Anakin’s R4 unit managed to send me a distress message—they are in desperate need of aid.” He looked around at the Councilors at the Temple and the holos from the other Generals spread across the galaxy. “Do we have anyone available to send immediately? Is there anyone nearby? I cannot, the Negotiator is grounded for repairs.”

Master Plo Koon’s deep, grave voice came from across the room. “My men and I are ready to depart, we already planned to head in that direction en route to Felucia. Padawan Tano has been accompanying me in her Master’s absence, and part of my path was to reunite the two. We will depart at once, with the permission of the Council.” He was already beginning to stand, and Obi-Wan’s heart warmed. He could always count on Plo to come through. He relaxed slightly. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t sense Anakin’s pain from this distance without an active bond; Vanqor was on the other side of the galaxy. It was truly remarkable that the Force had even allowed him to see and hear him—he was grateful for that. It was _almost_ enough. He couldn’t _feel_ it, but _intellectually_ he knew that Anakin was still in a great deal of danger, and he wasn’t there to help. 

He wished he could initiate the link at will, check and see how Anakin was doing—but no, the Force decided when his essentially continual wish to be near his Padawan was granted, not him. It was a unique kind of torture. 

Master Tiin resumed speaking, and Obi-Wan sighed and refocused. There was nothing he could do now, except wait. 

—

THE TRIUMPHANT

Ahsoka was nervous. She was beginning to feel pricklings in her training bond with Skyguy as they grew nearer to Vanqor. He was in a lot of pain, and extremely frustrated. She shifted in her seat. They were less than an hour away, and she couldn’t help but worry about what they would find. 

After watching her anxiously pace—a habit she’d picked up from Master Obi-Wan, and couldn’t seem to shake—Comet, Sinker, and Boost had abruptly decided that it was a great time for her to learn how to play Sabacc. They’d roped Wolffe into playing dealer, and over time a large and enthusiastic audience had clustered around in the officer’s mess of Plo’s flagship, cheering and jeering.

It was an excellent distraction, and Ahsoka was very grateful.

Sabacc itself was mind-bendingly complicated, and extremely fun. The sabacc pot at the middle of the table was filled with little scraps of paper with IOUs written on them—escapes from chore rotations, hot water shower rations, extra desserts, the little things that made life a little more tolerable during the war. 

Ahsoka looked around the table fondly. She had spent the last few weeks travelling and fighting with the Wolfpack, and they considered her an honorary pup. Master Plo didn’t have a Padawan learner of his own, and so at the beginning it had been a bit of an adjustment for Commander Wolffe and the rest of the troopers to have her around. Happily, she’d discovered that it was much easier to prove herself to Wolffe and boys than it had been to stand up to Appo above Ryloth. 

It was almost uncanny how quickly rumors could spread around the _Vode_ , and by the time Ahsoka came aboard the Triumphant, all the troopers seemed to know exactly who she was and what she was capable of accomplishing. It made her feel strong, and important—especially when they trusted her and listened respectfully to her opinion on tactics. 

The troopers really loved when she told stories about her adventures with Skyguy and Master Obi-Wan. It took her a few days to notice the posters that lined the troopers’ bunks—there were _many_ of Master Secura, for obvious reasons, but she’d discovered that for some reason there were also an unusual number of pictures of Master Obi-Wan. 

She wasn’t sure exactly why, he was a funny looking human with hair all over his face, but the clones seemed to really like him. There were posters of the Team _everywhere_ , and lots of the posters included her face too. It was pretty surreal. She remembered Master Obi-Wan insisting she come with them to public relations functions and photoshoots, but hadn’t really thought through the consequences of it all. 

She was famous. It was so _bizarre_ to see her face plastered on walls and all over the holoNet. There was one candid of Master Obi-Wan teaching her how to fight jar’kai that had somehow gotten spread around, and she thought they both looked extremely badass. It made her smile every time she saw it. 

She just wished she got a cool nickname like Hero With No Fear or the Negotiator. She was always just _Ahsoka_. Obi-Wan had insisted on that too, weirdly. It was like he wanted everyone in the galaxy to know her name. She thought it was sweet, if unnecessary.

“General Kenobi said that one thing the galaxy has for sure is plenty of room. He said there’s no reason the _Vode_ shouldn’t have a planet or a moon of their own.”

She looked up and tried to see who was speaking. That was another thing she had noticed: the amount of time the troopers spent talking about Master Obi-Wan and what he had promised to do for them when the war was over. It made Ahsoka both proud and extremely sad—proud that she was Obi-Wan’s grandpadawan, and sad that the clones had _so little_ to look forward to otherwise. 

Comet shrugged, speaking over his shoulder while watching as Wolffe laid down his second card face down. “Cody told Wolffe that Kenobi said he’d give us Kamino if he could, but that it wasn’t up to him.” 

Wolffe nodded confirmation, and the unfamiliar trooper complained, “Don’t want that _shabla_ puddle anyway. I want somewhere I could farm.”

“You can farm in a dome!” Boost said cheerfully, reaching for his cards. “I’ve heard it’s easier anyway.”

“Easy-schmeasy,” Comet said. “Since when is _easy_ what we go for?”

“I guess you’re right,” Boost shrugged. He reached to draw a card, made a face, and dropped his cards with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve bombed out, boys.”

Ahsoka gave him an excited smirk, and laid down her cards. “And I have _pure sabacc!”_

Chaos exploded around her, and she grinned. Hands patted her back, and she enthusiastically swept together the hand pot, gleefully counting up her winnings. At that particular moment, there was nowhere she’d rather be. 

_If only Skyguy were here, and Master Obi-Wan too. If only the war were over. If only everyone were okay. If only._

—

THE TRIUMPHANT / CORUSCANT

Anakin cracked his neck as he left the shower in his borrowed cabin, looking at his reflection in the ‘fresher mirror with a tired expression. His eyes flicked over the deep bruise on his chest and shoulder, rolling it slightly to feel the pull and ache of the injured joint. 

He frowned, wincing slightly as he pulled on a soft sleep shirt and shorts, and began to clean his teeth resentfully. 

His shoulder wasn’t healing fast enough, and his ability to fight was going to be compromised. They _needed_ him on Felucia, and soon. Master Plo was giving him a lift to rendezvous with the Resolute and the 501st, and he didn’t have much more time to heal. 

Anakin couldn’t wait to see Rex and the rest of Torrent Company. He missed them, and worried about their safety when he was away. He didn’t trust anyone except Obi-Wan and Snips to take care of his men properly. It had been just one more stressor during a very stressful few weeks. 

He had very much _not_ enjoyed being sent out on assignment with Windu. It had been like being back at the Temple under continual surveillance, with his own personal Code enforcer. It had been punishment because the Council hadn’t liked how he’d been training Ahsoka, he was relatively certain. 

She’d been called back to the Temple for insubordination last time they were on Felucia, grounded on Coruscant, and then sent out with Master Plo instead of him. He hated watching her be punished, but at least Plo was the best possible person for her to be sent with, other than Obi-Wan of course. 

Anakin was proud that he seemed to have made it through the mission with Windu without raising too much suspicion—Obi-Wan had taken and hidden his darkness a few times, as many times as he’d been able. It always helped Anakin so much to have Obi-Wan’s assistance at staying in control. 

Anakin was not good at keeping himself together when he was alone. He _hated_ being alone. Getting Snips back was excellent, getting Rex back would be great too, but the real problem remained the same. These days he was _always_ a million miles away from Obi-Wan. No matter how hard Obi-Wan tried, they kept being assigned apart.

He moved out of the ‘fresher and smiled gratefully at his bed. The Force was being kind to him. Obi-Wan was there asleep, curled on his side with his back to Anakin. The room was full of the steady, gentle sound of his breathing.

Anakin felt warm and relieved, and he moved quietly across the room. He didn’t know if it was the middle of the night wherever Obi-Wan was, or if it was closer to morning, and didn’t want to disturb him. His Master never got enough sleep. 

He stood over the bed for a long moment, looking down fondly and trying to engrave all the details of Obi-Wan’s resting form into his memory. Obi-Wan’s chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, and his face was relaxed. He looked so peaceful. He was _so handsome_. 

Anakin lifted the covers and slid gently in behind him, curling around his body. He couldn’t help but press his face against the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck, breathing in deeply to catch the sweet scent of Obi-Wan’s hair and his skin. 

His self-perception in the Force began to blur as he synchronized their breathing, falling into the bond. It gave him the greatest possible feeling of release—it was the only thing that made him feel _whole_.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s voice was thick and drowsy, and he shifted slightly to allow Anakin’s arms to come around and hold him closer. Anakin smiled and pressed a kiss against the top of his spine. 

“Go back to sleep, Master.”

Obi-Wan made a sad noise and shook his head slightly as if to clear it. Anakin squeezed him, and Obi-Wan sighed, relaxing again into his embrace. His voice was full of regret. “I think it’s morning here, I need to get up.” 

He made no effort to move, and his presence in the Force wrapped itself around Anakin’s. They breathed together for a long moment of quiet, savoring the too-rare proximity of their bodies, the too-precious mingling of their Force bond. 

Anakin felt an overwhelming wave of Obi-Wan’s concern and attention in the Force, pulling away his fear and anger, his sadness and pain. He let out a shaky breath and let Obi-Wan in completely, giving him everything. Obi-Wan shifted in his arms, turning to face him.

Anakin leaned forward to kiss him, but Obi-Wan pulled his face back. “I need to use the ‘fresher, Padawan, my breath is terrible.”

Anakin scowled at him, and kissed his cheek, rubbing his face against his beard affectionately. “Fine, Master.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, his voice still sleepy. “You need to release me in order for me to move, dearest.” 

Anakin’s arms reflexively tightened at the endearment, and Obi-Wan snorted, wiggling a bit and pulling free and then looking worriedly at Anakin’s black and blue shoulder. Anakin sighed and watched him move away. “Do you have to?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, stretching his shoulders and cracking his back. His face crumpled slightly with disgust. “I’m going to be sent out with Vos today to Nal Hutta. I need to have my head on straight to be able to handle that much nonsense, Padawan.” He shuffled towards the ‘fresher, giving Anakin an apologetic look.

Anakin sighed and reached for his datapad, determined to stay up and see if the bond would hold steady until Obi-Wan was done in the shower. He pulled up maps and fresh reports from Felucia and began studying the terrain, steadily making notes. A lot had changed since he’d been on the ground there. 

Time seemed to stretch and linger as he worked, a quiet eddy of a moment in the rushing torrent of life that was the war.

“Oh, good,” Obi-Wan’s much more alert voice finally floated over from the ‘fresher door. “You’re still here.” 

Anakin looked up and smirked, appreciating the view. Obi-Wan had a towel wrapped low around his hips, and his hair was still damp. Anakin scanned his body reflexively for injuries, despite knowing there couldn’t possibly be new ones—it had become a habit to check and make sure Obi-Wan was fine, and he was.

Anakin nodded in satisfaction. “The Force isn’t being a _sleemo_ , yeah.” His eyes followed Obi-Wan’s progress across the room, smiling as he drew near. 

Obi-Wan stole the datapad out of his hand and tossed it aside. Anakin made a falsely offended noise and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, laying back down next to him. He pressed a kiss against Anakin’s lips, lingering for a long moment to deepen it. Anakin licked into his mouth, and could taste Obi-Wan’s toothpaste. He moaned quietly and Obi-Wan pulled back with a considering look. 

“I was thinking in the shower, Anakin.”

“Oh, yeah?” Anakin raised an eyebrow, his hand sneaking toward Obi-Wan’s towel. “What about, Master?”

“Not that, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said with a knowing look, gently smacking his hand. Anakin pouted and Obi-Wan smiled fondly at him. “It’s come to my attention that I haven’t been a very good Master for you lately. Not as good as I should be.”

Anakin frowned. “Why’s that?” He shook his head in confusion. “Of course you’ve been a good Master. You’re the best.”

“I mean…” Obi-Wan trailed off. He sighed and brought a hand up and ran it through Anakin’s hair thoughtfully. Anakin’s eyelids fluttered closed, and he exhaled sharply, leaning into Obi-Wan’s gentle touch. “The reason I began studying so much with Solon was to learn enough to be able to teach you about the dark side, Anakin—because I couldn't teach you how to be a Jedi.”

Anakin blinked, processing, and then gave him an alarmed look. “You want to teach me how to be a Sith?”

Obi-Wan met his eyes with an earnest look and sent a reassuring wave in the Force that calmed Anakin’s heart rate. His voice was low and sincere. “I want to be your Master, Anakin. More than _anything_. It’s the most important thing to me. I want to teach you what you need to know, help you be the best you can be.”

Anakin blushed, looking down, overwhelmed with pleasure by his words and the possessive way they’d been said. Obi-Wan’s fingers scratched his scalp affectionately and Anakin almost purred. “Thank you, Master. I need your guidance, I always have.”

Obi-Wan kissed him again and gave him a warm, hopeful look that Anakin adored. “Do you want to learn something now?”

”Yes,” Anakin nodded. “If you want to teach me, _yes_ , please. Are you sure you have time?”

Obi-Wan hummed in approval. He stretched out and pulled Anakin to lay on his chest, taking extreme care to not jostle his injured shoulder. Anakin tangled their legs together and snuggled against him, enjoying his fresh scent, his smooth, shower-warmed skin. He ran his hand down the soft hair on Obi-Wan’s chest, and Obi-Wan smiled at him. “I know how much you _loathe_ the Jedi Code—Do you know the Sith one?”

“I… I think it had passion in it.” Anakin felt embarrassed. He coughed and pressed his forehead into Obi-Wan’s chest, hiding his eyes and muffling his voice. ”I didn’t really pay attention in history or Force cultures class.”

“Oh, I’m _well_ aware of that particular fact, Padawan mine,” Obi-Wan laughed. His hold on Anakin tightened slightly and then relaxed into a gentle hug. He stroked his back, sliding a hand under his shirt, his fingers absently tracing the ridge of his spine. Anakin melted against him, and Obi-Wan’s voice became a soothing rumble. “Well, it’s no problem. It’s a good place to start. Will you repeat after me?”

Anakin nodded, rubbing his cheek on Obi-Wan’s chest and sighing happily. The Force surrounded and embraced them both with mutual appreciation, and Anakin felt full of peace. “Yes, Master.”

Obi-Wan kissed his forehead. His voice was deliberate. “Peace is a lie.” 

Anakin wanted to laugh. He echoed him, imitating his accent and matching his tone and pitch. “Peace is a lie.” He looked up with a mischievous little smile.

Obi-Wan smiled back at him, and his pupils were blown. His eyes started to flare gold as he let his shields all the way down. Anakin thought he looked beautiful. Obi-Wan caught the thought in the bond and gave him a knowing look, his voice low and slightly teasing. “There is only passion.” 

Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s cock growing hard against his hip, and flushed. Obi-Wan sounded so _aroused_ —it sent a spike of matching arousal straight to Anakin’s cock. Anakin licked his lips, his breathing was shallow and rapid. His heart was pounding, and he shifted his hips, pressing his growing erection against Obi-Wan’s leg. “There is only passion.” 

Obi-Wan nodded in satisfaction, stroking his back again and pulling him close. “Through passion,” Obi-Wan pressed a long, slow kiss against Anakin’s lips. He pulled back, and a hand came up to stroke Anakin’s cheek fondly, bumping their foreheads together. “I gain strength.”

Anakin tried to breathe, he couldn’t look away. His mouth felt clumsy. “Through passion...” He swallowed, shifting his hips slightly to rub his cock and relieve the ache. Obi-Wan’s hands found his ass and held him still. Anakin exhaled and said, “I gain strength.”

Obi-Wan nodded again and slid his hands up to pull Anakin’s sleep shirt off, and Anakin shifted to accommodate him, wincing slightly. Obi-Wan gently kissed his injury. “Through strength,” Obi-Wan murmured, looking over Anakin’s bruised chest with a displeased frown before hugging him close, “I gain power.”

Anakin enjoyed the feeling of their bare chests pressed together—the warmth and extent of contact with Obi-Wan’s skin. He tried to match the rise and fall of Obi-Wan’s chest with his own breathing. He tucked his head in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck, letting him stroke his back, and obediently repeated, “Through strength, I gain power.”

Obi-Wan’s hands slid back down past his hips, pushing under his waistband to touch his skin, squeezing the curve of his ass gently and pulling their hips together. He rocked slightly, rubbing his own hard cock against Anakin’s. His voice was becoming slightly rough. “Through power, I gain victory.”

Anakin whined with relief at the pressure against his erection, and Obi-Wan’s grip on his ass tightened at the sound. His fingertips slid between Anakin’s legs, drawing closer to the sensitive skin around Anakin’s entrance. He smiled and began stroking gently. 

Anakin’s hips jerked involuntarily and he whined again, cock throbbing, trying to remember what had just been said. “Through power… I gain...” He gave Obi-Wan an apologetic look.

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and kissed his forehead. “Victory.”

Anakin nodded slightly. “Through power, I gain victory. _Please_ , Master, can—”

Obi-Wan cut him off with a kiss. He slid a hand out of Anakin’s shorts and held it up in the air, summoning his bottle of lube. Anakin hastily pushed his shorts off, and Obi-Wan hummed in approval. He dispensed some lube on his fingers. “Through victory, my chains are broken.” 

Anakin shuddered in anticipation, shifting to rub against Obi-Wan’s cock again. Obi-Wan gave him a look and he unwillingly stopped, pouting slightly. Obi-Wan huffed a laugh at him and kissed him again, sucking his pouting lip bottom lip into his mouth and biting it gently before pulling back.

Anakin whimpered when Obi-Wan’s slick fingers slid from his balls further back, pressing one inside him gently. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows encouragingly and Anakin began speaking, though his voice was weak and shaky. “Through victory, my...”

His voice lost coherence when Obi-Wan added a second finger and began fucking him gently, opening him up. 

Obi-Wan’s voice was indulgent as he repeated himself, his fingers moving faster. “My chains are broken.”

Anakin spread his legs wider, rocking his hips forward to make it easier to take it. Obi-Wan smiled and added a third finger, fucking him with them gently, and then less gently. Anakin’s eyes slid closed, and he used all his focus to say the words: “Through victory, my chains are broken.” 

He made a disappointed noise when Obi-Wan pulled his fingers out, but happily made room for Obi-Wan to open his towel and pull out his hard cock. Anakin eagerly reached for the lube and spread it on Obi-Wan, stroking down his cock and earning a hum of appreciation. 

Obi-Wan pulled him back on top, lining up his cock with his ass and pushing the tip in slightly. He spoke, his voice low and intent, looking deeply into Anakin’s eyes. “The Force shall free me.”

Anakin whined and nodded, and rocked his hips back and down, taking all of Obi-Wan’s cock with one long stroke. His eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned. Obi-Wan’s hands came to hold his hips tightly, hissing at the sudden heat and pressure. 

They took a moment to adjust to each other, and Anakin opened his eyes, looking down and taking in the sight of his Master’s pleasure-filled face, his flushed cheeks and pink lips, getting lost staring into his golden eyes. 

Suddenly, they looked so _right_. 

He couldn’t imagine his Master without them, not when they were so perfect for him. He smiled, and his heart felt full when Obi-Wan mirrored his expression, smiling crookedly back up at him, fucking up into him slighly. 

Anakin nodded at him and said assertively, “The Force shall _free_ me.” He rocked his hips, and Obi-Wan made a noise low in his throat. His hands encouraged the motion again, and Anakin began riding him slowly, appreciating the quiet intimacy of the moment. 

“Very good, Padawan,” Obi-Wan murmured. He looked so proud of him, so very pleased with him. His hands squeezed Anakin’s hips. “Can you say it again?” Anakin made a despairing face, thinking back, and Obi-Wan laughed. 

Anakin dropped his head to kiss him, his hips moving faster, trying to distract him from the question. Obi-Wan sent a wave of amusement through the Force and kissed him thoroughly, holding him close and staying still, letting Anakin do the work with his hips. 

Anakin happily fucked himself on Obi-Wan’s cock and lost himself in the kiss, in the movement of their lips, the sweet pressure and gentle swipe of his tongue, the taste of Obi-Wan’s mouth—the toothpaste giving away to the indefinable, precious underlying taste of _Obi-Wan_. 

They were entirely tangled together, and Anakin began rolling his hips more quickly, the Force a shuddering pool of affection. He began to lose the ability to move smoothly, and Obi-Wan took back control, pushing him off and rolling them over before looking intensely apologetic when Anakin whined at the pain in his shoulder. “Sorry!” 

_“Master,”_ Anakin panted up at him, his smile growing as Obi-Wan adjusted his legs, spreading them wider, and he moaned when Obi-Wan pushed the head of his cock back inside. He tilted his hips, trying to draw Obi-Wan in further, pouting when Obi-Wan held back. “You know I _like_ that.”

“Of course you do.” Obi-Wan shook his head and smiled ruefully as he began to slide his cock in and out, fucking him deliberately, deeper and deeper, harder and harder, working back up to a rapid pace. He exhaled sharply, moving a hand to stroke Anakin’s hair, looking at him affectionately, “Anakin, my darling, whatever am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know,” Anakin whined, his eyes sliding shut, holding his legs open wider—the only thing in the world that mattered to him was the feeling of Obi-Wan fucking him hard with his thick cock, claiming and taking him, using him for his own pleasure too. It was _perfect_. Anakin sighed blissfully, and then felt his mouth move without permission. “I love you, Master.”

There was a moment of shocked silence as Obi-Wan’s rhythm stuttered abruptly to a halt. Anakin gasped and opened his eyes wide—he definitely hadn’t meant to say it. He’d somehow implicitly planned on _never_ saying it. He swallowed as an extremely intense wave of Obi-Wan’s emotions broke over him in the Force. 

Anakin had never felt emotions this strong from Obi-Wan before. They rushed past all at once; he couldn’t pick them apart. It felt like Obi-Wan was both terrified and ecstatic, ashamed and elated. He was panicking, grieving, thrilled—Obi-Wan’s heart was so full and it was _breaking_. 

Anakin furrowed his brow slightly, and searched Obi-Wan’s face to try to understand the grief in his response. Obi-Wan’s eyes were wide and shining with desperation, filled with a wordless entreaty that Anakin didn’t understand. 

“Oh, Anakin, I...” Obi-Wan’s voice was thick with emotion. He kissed him hard, then pulled back and looked at him with an intensity that Anakin couldn’t read. _“My_ Anakin, I… You are...” He shook his head, and tried again, his hips beginning to move again, filling him with his cock, burying himself deep inside. His voice was rough. “You’re the only thing that matters to me.” 

Obi-Wan suddenly wrapped Anakin in as much affection and attention in the Force as he was able, fucking him harder—the pace of his thrusts speeding up and the sound of their hips slapping together growing louder. Anakin whined at the overwhelming wave of sensation, his head dropping back against the pillow, the pleasure of being fucked smoothing the worry from his face.

Obi-Wan’s hand moved to stroke Anakin’s cock, squeezing gently on the head and twisting his wrist to bring him closer and closer to the edge. The movement of his hips grew more erratic, and forceful. Words came through the bond, saturated with emotion. _“I swear to you, Anakin, I will always take care of you, Padawan. It’s all I want. You are mine. I need you. Always, forever.”_

Anakin nodded, the words and their promise washing over him, and suddenly the feeling of his orgasm overwhelmed him all at once. He groaned loudly at the wave of pleasure, his muscles straining as he came—the sensation was cascading and intense. His eyes slid closed and all he could feel was his come spilling out into Obi-Wan’s hand, filling it, overflowing it, dripping to land on his stomach and chest. 

Obi-Wan licked the come from his hand and moaned, fucking him harder. His voice was deep and strained. “I… I swear, Anakin, I… You are the most important person in my life.”

Anakin whimpered and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. “Thank you, Master. I didn’t mean to tell you. I mean it though.”

Obi-Wan’s face was pained as he nodded and kissed him, fucking him hard, drawing close to coming too. “I know, Padawan.” He thrust a few final, decisive times, and then groaned again loudly. His head dropped to rest in the crook of Anakin’s neck, shuddering and pumping him full of come. “I meant it too.” He spoke quietly against Anakin’s skin, his lips caressing him gently. 

Anakin tightened his arms around him and held him close, trying to make the moment last forever, and Obi-Wan collapsed against him, breathing hard. Anakin felt so safe crushed under his weight, so secure. It was almost perfect. He loved his Master _so much..._

Eventually Obi-Wan kissed Anakin’s neck softly one more time and slipped out of his body, pulling away. He sat up and sighed at the mess he left behind, lazily cleaning up Anakin with his sleep shirt before tossing it away. 

He met Anakin’s eyes for a long moment with an unreadable expression before looking over at the ‘fresher unwillingly. “I need to go get clean again, Anakin, and then I really do need to go.”

Anakin nodded at him, his brain slowly returning back to speed after the overwhelming intensity of his orgasm. He blinked and yawned, realizing that he was much closer to being asleep than being awake. 

Obi-Wan looked at him fondly, kissing him on the forehead and murmuring quietly, “Good to sleep, dear one, get some rest,” before rolling off the bed and moving out of the room to the ‘fresher. Anakin sighed and snuggled himself under the blanket, trying to stay awake until Obi-Wan came back and quietly failing, drifting inexorably towards the black.

As he fell asleep, one last thought bubbled up from the secret, weakest part of himself. It was tinged with dread.

_Obi-Wan hadn’t actually said it back._

—

CORUSCANT

Obi-Wan looked fixedly and vacantly into the ‘fresher mirror for a long time. He was tempted to punch it, shatter the glass, hurt his hand. He had never hated himself quite this much, and he had no idea what to do about it. He didn’t think there was a way to _un-kriff_ this up.

_I love you, Master..._

Anakin’s love in the Force had felt so innocent, so pure, complete and uncomplicated. It was full of trust, and infinite acceptance. No wonder he would _hate_ him quite so much. How _betrayed_ he would feel when he learned the truth about who Obi-Wan was and what he had done. Anakin's love could not, would not, survive the lies that allowed it to grow.

Obi-Wan knew in his heart that Anakin’s acceptance was _not_ truly infinite. That was the problem. He knew that his time was running out—his lies would come out somehow, and he had no way to prevent it. There was no way to spin it, no way to present it in a way to convince him of Obi-Wan’s good intentions.

It would all be over the moment that Anakin really understood that the Jedi truly _were_ to blame for his mother’s death—that Obi-Wan was _using_ the bond that was designed by the Force _for her_ , had _stolen_ and was _stealing_ that power for his own ends, power he had _no right_ to have.

Nothing he could say would _ever_ make that better. 

Anakin would be furious that Obi-Wan had _known_ so much and hadn’t ever found the words to _tell_. He wouldn’t forgive him for that, and Obi-Wan wasn’t sure that he should. Everything was so _kriffed up._

_I love you, Master..._

Obi-Wan had listened without comprehending to _years_ of Anakin crying himself to sleep as a boy, missing his mother, aching for her presence. He’d listened and done nothing. He hadn’t known...

He had disregarded Anakin’s dreams about her suffering, had held him back from fulfilling his one true _purpose_ of being alive—the true reason that he’d even been born at all. He’d listened and made Anakin do nothing. He hadn’t _known..._

Obi-Wan had punished Anakin for being _what he was_ and shamed him for having killed a village that _the Force itself_ had apparently decided needed to die. He’d listened to Anakin’s righteous indignation and made Anakin doubt himself, made him think that he was wrong—he’d made Anakin _submit_ to his will because of it. _He hadn’t known_...

He didn’t for a moment believe that Anakin would excuse him for not having known. It was raw, too big. He would be filled with righteous fury at having been _right all along_ , and would be crushed and betrayed by the reality of Obi-Wan’s actions. He wouldn't care about his reasons _why_. 

Anakin and his mother had been a true dyad in the Force—they had been one sacred object that Obi-Wan had been more than complicit in _ripping asunder_ and _holding apart_ for his own gain.

_I love you, Master..._

Obi-Wan had _tried_ to say it back, but there had been a blockage stopping his tongue. The words simply wouldn’t come out. It was somehow too _manipulative_. He couldn’t say it, not like this. He couldn’t let the truest thing about himself be spoken in the middle of _so many_ lies. He just couldn’t do it. He’d finally found the line, apparently—and that line was telling that particular truth as a lie. Anakin deserved so much better.

He’d seen the hurt and confusion in Anakin’s eyes and had been filled with dread. _Is this it? Is this the beginning of the end? Is this when I lose him? Is this how?_

His comlink kept chiming. Cody was probably extremely curious about where he was, and why he was late to meet with Vos. Obi-Wan hoped that Vos was late too and wasn’t pestering Cody. He reflexively reached out in the Force and easily found Cody’s mind, waiting and open for instruction. He skimmed the knowledge that Vos was, indeed, pestering Cody. He pushed over the thought that he was coming as soon as he could and a sincere apology. His comlink went silent.

Obi-Wan took a deep, shaky breath and tried as hard as he could to move past his emotions, refocus on the war—on what _must happen._

It wasn’t working. He felt like a monster. He didn’t know who he’d become, or what he was going to do. Anakin didn’t deserve this. Nothing made sense, everything was awful. Somewhere a clock was counting down, and he was just _waiting_ to lose the only thing in his life that mattered. How had it come to this?

_I love you, Master…_

Obi-Wan washed his hands, splashed water on his face, wiped himself clean. He took a bracing breath and dressed. 

He had to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I’ll repeat the chorus, _things will get worse._
> 
> I’m excited to finally be hitting this part of the story! Thank you for reading and next update will be up soon :)


	14. Returns

TETH

Early 20BBY

“I never did enjoy hanging out with you.”

“Hilarious, Obi-Wan.” Quinlan Vos pulled himself up to the top of the rock, sitting heavily with mock despair. “I hate that bounty hunter.”

Obi-Wan pulled himself up too, standing and cracking his back. He glowered in the direction of Bane’s departing ship. “He is not on my list of favorite sentients, no.” He lightly nudged Quinlan’s leg with his foot, tapping him with the toe of his boot and gesturing towards their ship. “Let’s go.”

Quinlan rolled his eyes and put his lightsaber back on his belt. He began to fix his hair, and Obi-Wan sighed impatiently. Quinlan looked out over the misty valley, and sounded thoughtful. “I guess that’s finally the end of the mission. Ziro’s dead, anyway.”

“It would be futile to pursue Bane,” Obi-Wan nodded. “He’s both evaded arrest and escaped prison so many times, it’s entirely a waste of time and energy.”

“Back to Coruscant, then?” Quinlan stood up, resigned, and clapped Obi-Wan companionably on the back. “Is your—” His fingers caught and lingered on the soft wool gauze of Obi-Wan’s tabard. 

Obi-Wan looked over at him with a frown when Quinlan abruptly stopped speaking, and then his eyes opened wide when he recognized the expression on Quinlan’s face. He felt a surge of dread. _Nothing good could come of this._

Quinlan’s power of psychometry had been somehow activated, and he was experiencing a memory in the Force that clung to the tabard. His hand suddenly clenched on the fabric before he leapt away, lightsaber lit in an instant and held in a guard position.

“Who are you?” Quinlan spat, eyes running up and down Obi-Wan’s body. “What have you done to Obi-Wan? Where is he?”

Obi-Wan slowly raised his hands, keeping his lightsaber on his belt. His heart was racing, his face was blank. “What do you mean?”

“You...” Quinlan frowned, eyes flicking slightly as he remembered the details of the vision. He shook his head and firmed up his stance, blade held out defensively. “I don’t even... It’s supposed to be impossible to mind trick a Hutt.”

Obi-Wan’s stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?” 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Quinlan glared. “I cannot believe you made me see you and Skywalker. How long has _that_ been going on? I’m traumatized.”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide what to do. No matter how much he had worried about this in the abstract, he’d never really thought it would happen. He hadn’t thought there would be anything incriminating for Vos to touch—his lightsaber hadn’t been involved at all. How could he _possibly_ be unlucky enough to be wearing the same blasted tabards? Tabards that he’d pushed aside in haste to...

“I am Obi-Wan, Quin.” Obi-Wan swallowed at Quinlan’s unconvinced face and still-raised saber. “Sixteen, Room of a Thousand Fountains, Twi’lek liquor.”

Quinlan’s nostrils flared and his hands tightened on the hilt of his saber for a moment before deactivating it. His presence in the Force was still saturated with betrayal and wariness. “When did you fall to the dark side?”

Obi-Wan laughed without humor, lowering his hands. “Before the war even properly started, I suspect. I don’t know for sure. It’s not like breaking a leg, Vos, it’s not all or nothing, all at once. I do know it’s been more than a year, though.”

“Seriously?” Quinlan looked almost impressed despite himself, clipping his lightsaber to his belt and putting his hands on his hips. “How’ve you pulled that off?”

“I’m not actually sure,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “I’ve never been caught by anyone I couldn’t mind trick into forgetting.”

Quinlan looked offended and slightly afraid, his hand drifting back toward his lightsaber. “Is that what you’re going to do to me?” 

“I don’t know.” Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest defensively, his tone reluctant. “Do I need to?”

“What made you fall?” Quinlan’s fingers drummed indecisively on the metal of his hilt, his voice sounded extremely curious. “The _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ I know would _never_ have fallen to the dark side.”

Obi-Wan grimaced apologetically. “I’m… I’m afraid you don’t and haven’t really known me for a long time, Quinlan. I haven’t been honest about who… _what_ … I am, since I was sixteen. I’ve _always_ been a liar.”

Quinlan’s head recoiled slightly in surprise, and he looked more curious than ever. “Really? What do you mean?” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes followed Quinlan’s hand dropping away from his lightsaber with relief. He looked back up and studied Quinlan’s open face, and decided to take the chance. The damage was already done, anyway—but maybe he _wouldn’t_ have to use the dark side to overpower, twist, and strip the mind of one of his oldest friends. He really didn’t want to do that. He just needed to _convince_ him. “Will you listen to me without going to the Council first? I could really use your help.”

Quinlan crossed his arms and peered into Obi-Wan’s disguised eyes for a long moment before nodding slowly. “I’ll listen, but no promises.”

—

FELUCIA

Ahsoka hated Felucia. 

The battle on the planet _never seemed to end_. There was _always_ a crisis on Felucia—the nearby hyperspace lane was too strategically important. It was never over. So many troopers she knew had died there. Far, far too many.

The last time the 501st had been deployed there, she'd gotten carried away _again,_ disobeying orders and endangering her men enough to be recalled to Temple and put on probation. She’d sent good men to their deaths, _again_. 

Skyguy had been so disappointed with her, and her repeated failure _still_ ate at her inside—so strongly that the distinctive shape and color of the Felucian trees was enough to make her feel guilty and oddly resentful at the Council for sending her back here. 

_Hadn’t she done enough damage last time? When were they going to stop trusting her with men’s lives? How many times would she have to fail before they finally knew better?_

She refocused on the briefing, and frowned at the number of reinforcements that had just arrived at the droid outpost. It was the last major installation they had to neutralize in order to complete their offensive push into Separatist territory, and it was definitely going to be a challenge.

Master Plo took charge of tactics, his voice deep and deliberative. He gestured with precision, “We shall break into three groups to divide their defenses. I'll take the left flank. Skywalker, attack the front gate, Ahsoka, you scale the back wall, we'll meet in the middle.” 

Ahsoka nodded confirmation that she understood, and Anakin looked to several local Felucians who had volunteered to assist the Republic forces. “Okay, scouts, find me a way down there, _quiet-like._ ” 

The locals saluted, or tried to, looking a bit like children playing soldiers. Ahsoka frowned after them as they hustled away. They had been a peaceful people, before the war. _Farmers_. She hoped they would be peaceful again when it was done.

Ahsoka looked up at Anakin, slightly concerned by the task Plo had assigned him. She said a statement as a question, “Going through the front gate won't be easy.”

Anakin scoffed slightly at the implication that it might be _hard_ for him to take out a measly droid outpost, but his face became serious again very quickly. He radiated a sudden wave of discontent in the Force that made Ahsoka raise her brows. He seemed to _really_ hate the idea of splitting up. His tone was a warning and a plea for caution. “You have it tougher going over that wall, Snips.”

“You taught me well.” She tried to reassure him, mimicking his boastful tone very well after so much time together. “I can handle anything.” 

He gave her a raised eyebrow worthy of Master Obi-Wan. “Don't get cocky.” Ahsoka suppressed a smile and nodded, signalling to a squadron from the Wolfpack and leading them away.

They circled around the outpost, moving steadily through the trees, silent and in formation. Ahsoka’s intuition abruptly lit up, the Force whispering, _danger, danger._ She frowned, raised a fist and signaled immediate halt. She murmured to Comet, “I sense something out there.”

Comet raised his blaster, looking around through the sight. “A droid?”

It didn’t feel like a droid to Ahsoka, but she wasn’t sure. The threat was amorphous, yet oddly personal. “I don't think so…” 

The moment stretched out uncomfortably as she tried to understand what she was feeling. The sound of flies buzzing was very loud. She couldn’t get any more information from the Force, and nothing was happening. She shook her head, resigned. “It’s probably just an animal.” She signalled all clear, and began to advance. “Come on, we gotta get to that wall.”

Comet looked back, checking the trooper’s positions before turning to follow after. “Stay alert, men. Let's move.”

After several more minutes of painstakingly covert navigation of the forest, they came near to the rear wall of the outpost. Plo’s voice came through the com. “Skywalker, Ahsoka, are you in position?” 

Anakin’s determined voice answered first. “Ready and _waiting_ , Master Plo.” Ahsoka could strongly feel his nervous anticipation, almost excitement, through their bond. He seemed to _really_ want to fight, for some reason. 

Skyguy had been weirdly grumpy off and on for the last few months, but recently he’d gotten in _such_ a bad mood. It hadn’t ever really gone away, and Ahsoka didn’t understand why something seemed to have flipped in his head. He seemed to be brooding more, and was unexpectedly volatile. 

Ahsoka almost smiled as she imagined the carnage he was about to unleash on those droids. 

She shook her head slightly to refocus, and ran her eyes from turret to turret along the top of the back wall, noting the obstacles. She nodded in satisfaction at their location and checked in. “We're in position.”

Suddenly, many things happened at once. 

Just on the other side of the wall, relentless artillery fire pounded the ground and filled the air with smoke and flames, the vibrations of the explosions making Ahsoka’s montrals ache. She signalled and her troopers moved from behind cover, sniping all the visible droid targets on the top of the wall. 

After the first wave of droids were eliminated, she ordered, “Comet, Sinker, Boost, get up there!” and watched as the squad moved forward with ascension cables, moving up the wall quickly and taking the fight to the droids. 

Her lightsabers were a defensive blur, all of her hours of practice of jar’kai Soresu with Master Obi-Wan was coming in handy. She protected as many troopers as she could from returned fire while they were vulnerable between the forest and the wall, her blades flashing as she tried to reflect blasts back to eliminate the droid that fired them. Every time it worked, she felt a small thrill of satisfaction.

“We're all clear, Commander, come on up.” Comet’s voice came through her com, and she replied confidently.

“I'll be right there.” 

Comet’s head disappeared over the side of the wall, and she gave one last suspicious look at the forest that _still_ vibrated with danger in the Force. _Why?_

A greedy laugh was the last thing she heard before electrocution and unconsciousness. 

—

TETH

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “The Sith Master is Chancellor Palpatine.”

Quinlan didn’t visibly react. “No, he’s not.”

“He _is_ Darth Sidious, I’m afraid it is true.” Obi-Wan tipped his head towards the ship in question and Quinlan nodded. They began walking, speaking in hushed tones despite their isolation. They seemed to share an instinctive respect for the secrecy of the topic. “Dooku, or I should properly say, Darth Tyranus, told me.”

“You trust him?” Quinlan sounded incredulous and gave him a bemused look. 

Obi-Wan felt a surge of frustration that he swallowed down, keeping his voice level. “Sidious is after Anakin. He’s been after him since he was a boy, when he decided that he wants him as his Apprentice. Dooku wants me to stop his Master killing him to replace him with Anakin. So…” He shrugged. “I believe him, but I don’t trust him.”

Quinlan looked thoughtful, and then amused. “No loyalty among the Sith, I suppose.”

“The culture does not encourage or reward it, no.” Obi-Wan’s voice was very dry. 

Quinlan asked cautiously, “What are you even doing about it? Palpatine, I mean. Why haven’t you told anyone?”

Obi-Wan shuddered slightly at the idea. “Quinlan, he would be able to kill _all_ the Jedi within a matter of hours if he discovers that his cover is blown. He will _exterminate_ them as soon as they are no longer useful for his war effort, and I can’t afford to trigger that. I have to know how to stop it first. I have to be sure that I can.” 

Obi-Wan didn’t trust for a moment that Darth Solon’s assurances of the clones’ _ultimate_ _loyalty_ would be able to withstand Sidious’s machinations. He wasn’t willing to trust the lives of every single Jedi on the words of a Sith holocron with questionable credibility.

“How could he possibly be able to kill that many Jedi at once?” Quinlan sounded disbelieving and slightly mocking. “I don’t think that’s possible, Obi.”

“My name has _three_ syllables,” Obi-Wan snapped reflexively, as he’d done ever since they were in the crèche together as younglings. Quinlan raised an eyebrow and Obi-Wan looked away, voice bleak. “He can override the free will of the clones. Every Jedi is surrounded by legions of them. It will be a slaughter. They won’t expect it.”

Quinlan’s pace slowed, and he sounded disturbed. “Override their free will?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan sighed. “At any time. We have to remove him from power at least, kill him preferably, before he has a chance to do it. I don’t know if I could stop it once it started, and I can’t take that risk. The stakes are too high... That’s why secrecy is so important. Do you see?” There was a hunt of pleading running through his voice. “I need an ally I can trust, Quin. _Please help me.”_

It was like Obi-Wan couldn’t help but layer in some level of Force compulsion, wrapping the words in the dark side. It seemed almost like it wasn’t optional or voluntary anymore. He needed something from Quinlan, and he would get it. 

Obi-Wan _hated_ that this is who he had become. He felt sick at the irony of using Quinlan’s horror at the clones losing their free will as a way to lead him toward losing some degree of his own. 

Obi-Wan’s face remained earnest and his body language relaxed and trustworthy as Quinlan processed the request. It was quiet for a long moment before he finally replied, his voice still slightly wary. “What exactly do you need me to do?”

Obi-Wan felt a surge of excitement, and something else that almost resembled _hope_. It had _worked_. The suggestion had buried itself deep, and Quinlan didn’t seem to register that it had been planted. His begrudging and distrustful attitude was shifting into a much more malleable one.

Obi-Wan spoke quickly. “I need proof that Dooku and Palpatine are conspiring. It’s the only way to stop the war and get him out of power. I know they are, we just need to prove it.”

“How do you propose to do that?” Quinlan sounded speculative, but dubious. “They haven’t been caught yet, and they’re the most visible people in the galaxy. If there was any proof it would have been found by now, right?”

Obi-Wan shrugged, “I think that someone just has to get close enough to Dooku. He’s the weak link. It can’t be me, though.” He huffed a frustrated sigh. “The Count already knows that I know, and would be very careful around _me_.”

Quinlan put the pieces together. “But he doesn’t know that I know.”

“Exactly,” Obi-Wan nodded and his voice turned slightly tentative. “You could… you could become an acolyte. Pretend to hate me, hate the Jedi. Get close to him. See if you can get proof.”

Quinlan gave him an unimpressed look. “You want me to spy for you.” 

“It’s what you’ve always been excellent at, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan tried to remove the pleading from his tone. “You’re the best tracker, you always have been. Or, if you don’t want to do that...” He thought for a moment, and offered an alternative plan. “I know that Palpatine has clones ready for his consciousness if his current body dies. If you destroyed those, it would make him much easier to kill completely.”

“He has _what?”_ Quinlan sounded revolted. 

Obi-Wan looked over, face grim. “Do you see now? He _must_ be stopped, _at any cost._ He’s trying to make himself immortal, and start a Sith Empire. We can’t let that happen, Quinlan.”

“No…” Quinlan sighed deeply and gave him a small smile. “We won’t let it happen, Obi-Wan. I’ll help you. I’ll spy for you.”

“Thank the Force.” Obi-Wan felt a weight drop from his shoulders. “Thank you, Quin.”

Quinlan shoved him lightly and beat him up the ramp to the pilots seat. Obi-Wan gave him a resigned look, and Quinlan grinned, initiating takeoff. “No problem, Obi.”

—

FELUCIA

Anakin cut down the tactical droid at the heart of the outpost with savage satisfaction. He looked back at the trail of scrap metal that he’d left behind with a smile. 

He’d mowed his way through the droids, a perfect storm of violence. It had felt _so good_ to give himself over to the Force and become a living weapon, to let himself become one with his blade—to live in the moment without doubt _._ He was so, so tired of _doubt._

“The outpost is secure.” Anakin spoke confirmation of their success into his comlink, and waited for Ahsoka to respond. He frowned at her silence, looking around for an explanation. He saw Comet and reflexively smiled. “Good job, Corporal. Where's Commander Tano?”

Comet stopped moving suddenly, and his voice radiated confusion and concern, looking around too. “She was covering our flank when we scaled the wall, sir.”

The fact that Comet didn’t know made Anakin have a _very_ bad feeling. He ordered loudly, “Everybody fan out. I want a perimeter sweep now!” He watched them move out with dread and spoke with a pressed tone into his com. “Ahsoka, state your location.” 

There was only silence. 

He reached out with the Force, but found only loose proximity without emotion. He tried harder, holding his hand out and focusing. She wasn’t dead, he knew that much, but almost certainly unconscious. 

He felt Master Plo’s eyes on him as he began speaking loudly into his comlink, hoping to wake her. “Ahsoka! Come in. Are you there? Can you hear me?” He glared at the com, willing her voice to come through, but there was nothing, only _silence_.

Anakin’s nostrils flared with frustration. He reached out to her with all the power he could muster without dipping into the dark side, heightening his awareness of the living Force around him in all directions. He opened himself up completely, loosening the barriers of his mind and seeking her unique Force signature inside the vibrant complexity of life and growth that surrounded him.

In the Force, the Felucian forest was teeming with luminous life, almost overbright with it, a deafening, overwhelming thrum of interdependent beings—Ahsoka’s unconscious mind was barely a dim shadow of a hum in comparison. 

Anakin’s eyes widened as he realized _even that faint feeling_ was slipping away. The urgency in his voice spiked sharply, his tone drawing attention from troopers all around him. “Ahsoka! Can you hear me?! Ahsoka!” 

The transmission suddenly went dead, as if someone had destroyed her comlink. _No._

Anakin instinctively looked to the sky, and saw a ship leaving atmo. He felt this stomach drop with horror, and wanted to scream. A few more frozen moments passed and the ship must have hit hyperspace because abruptly... 

Ahsoka was gone. 

Someone had _taken_ her. Someone had touched her when she couldn’t fight, had picked her up and moved her, putting her unconscious body on that ship. Someone had his vulnerable, young, female Padawan in their _possession_. It was absolutely and completely unacceptable. He felt a roiling surge of emotion, darkness bubbling up from within. 

Master Plo’s eyes on the back of his head felt almost like a physical itch. 

Anakin ground his teeth and pulled all of his power back inside, making himself small and contained in the Force, attempting to appease his audience at the same time as he made an fervent internal vow.

_Someone would pay for this in blood._

—

HYPERSPACE

Ahsoka woke up in a cage. 

It was so unreal that it seemed false, at first. She appeared to be in a ship’s cargo bay, shivering with chill and locked in a large square metal cage. She felt a burst of hot panic, looking around frantically for an escape. 

_They’d stripped off her armor while she’d been unconscious._

She shuddered, feeling violated and vulnerable. The clinging black fabric of her bodysuit was keeping her relatively warm and covered, but in all the ways that mattered, she was naked without her armor and her lightsabers.

She noticed someone in a nearby container and called out to their shadowy figure, her voice echoing strangely around the objects in the ship’s partially full hold. “H-hey, what is this place? Who are these... pirates?” 

A voice numbed with horror came floating back. “They are Trandoshans. They're gonna release us and hunt us down for sport.”

“What?” Ahsoka felt like she’d been struck, and she clutched her hands against the bars hopelessly, her knuckles turning white. “Hunt us down?!” 

When there was no response, she slumped back to the ground, holding her aching head in her hands. This was _very, very bad._

She didn’t know what to do, so she sat down to meditate, trying as hard as possible to reach out into the Force and contact someone, _anyone._ Skyguy wasn’t nearby, so they must have jumped to hyperspace. If they had been in a system together, she would have felt him, she was sure of it. 

That meant she was alone. 

She swallowed thickly, blinking away tears of frustration, and took a shaky breath. _She was a Jedi. She would be fine. She would find a way out of this. She would survive this._

It became somewhat of a mantra over the next few hours as she meditated. Ahsoka had eventually relaxed into lotus position, letting her body rest heavy on the ground. Little by little, she pulled her attention away from her senses, away from her physical body, and out into the Force.

In hyperspace, the living Force was muted and hollow, only radiating strongly from the beings onboard the ship. It was uncomfortably _quiet—_ she was so used to the hum of the troopers minds and emotions while in transit that she’d almost forgotten what it was truly like to be on a ship with limited crew. 

Everyone else in the cages around her was sitting in a thick fog of terror and despair. She shook her head, refusing to let it affect her. _She was a Jedi. She would be fine. She would find a way out of this._

Thinking back to a conversation she’d had with Master Obi-Wan, she pulled away from the luminous beings of the living Force and pushed her awareness out into the infinite architecture of the unifying Force. 

Hyperspace felt strange, an odd sensation in space-time. She drifted in it, unsettled, getting her bearings. She began to feel more and more removed from her body, her consciousness floating further and further away. It was very dangerous, what she was doing. She knew that. It seemed less dangerous than being hunted for sport, though, so it was worth the risk.

Time seemed less exact while she was meditating so deeply. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but all at once something very peculiar shifted in her perception of reality. Where before the unifying Force stretched out around her impersonally, as a kind of infinite, morphing container and living clock—all of a sudden it began to be saturated with a strange feeling, one that she was sure that she had sensed before. 

_Master Obi-Wan?_

His Force signature was ambient, pervasive, elusive. It was like he was hiding on the other side of a veil. He was everywhere, and nowhere. She poked hard at the veil, but there was no response. She plucked it instead, feeling the vibrations echo out into the void. 

Suddenly, it felt like someone plucked _back_.

Her heart stuttered and then started pounding. She frantically pushed the thought _Trandosha, Trandosha, Trandosha,_ over and over, again and again, out into the Force, calling it and crying it, begging for help.

The ship dropped from hyperspace, and she was thrown out of her meditation so abruptly that she almost felt nauseated. Her head was pounding, her feet were completely numb. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, or if she had gotten her message across. She hoped to the Force that she had. 

The floor of her cage opened, and she fell about ten feet to the sandy ground, landing hard. Her feet were still asleep, and she staggered up, wincing at the pain. It was night, and difficult to see. She looked around at the others scattered around the beach, frowning in confusion. 

The Force lit up with danger, and despite the overwhelming ache in her feet as her circulation returned, she staggered and bolted before the first blaster bolts hit the ground. She felt as others were shot down, felt them die, but she kept running. She had to get out of sight.

_This was a nightmare._

—

FELUCIA

Master Plo’s voice came suddenly from behind Anakin, as slow and deep as ever. “We have alerted our forces throughout the Outer Rim and our intelligence assets inside the Confederacy. If she's spotted, we shall know about it.”

“Good.” Anakin tipped his head slightly in gratitude and then turned back to the map of the galaxy. He was trying to use his intuition to sense where they had taken her, but he couldn’t get a read on it. She must still be in hyperspace, and that meant they were taking her far away. Far meant he might not be able to feel her when she went back to realspace. 

Far was bad.

Plo interrupted his thoughts again. He sounded reluctant, but firm. “Skywalker, our mission here is _finished_. We must return to Coruscant.”

The idea of returning to the Temple without his Padawan made Anakin’s jaw clench. He shook his head strongly and looked back at the map. “I am not abandoning her.”

“Your emotions are clouding your judgment.” Plo rebuked him gently. 

“My emotions?” Anakin’s head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes, “Do you know what happens to a young female Togruta? I do! The exact same things that happen to a young female Twi’lek! She was _kidnapped_ and _taken_ and…” Plo did not respond, and Anakin’s voice became low and dangerous. “If she is forced to be a slave, to go through things… to face that risk, she could _never be the same_. They could _harm her in ways we might not be able to heal,_ Plo!” He shook his head forcefully. “I will not leave her fate up to chance, up to others!”

Plo shook his head sadly, “It’s time to go.”

“No!” Anakin spat. “I refuse. I will find her first.” 

“This may not be within your power, Skywalker. You must understand that. It is outside of your control.” When Anakin merely deepened his scowl, Plo continued seriously. “It is up to her, now. She is determined and brave. If you have trained her well, she shall take care of herself, and find a way back to you.”

“Find her way back?!” Anakin almost exploded with rage, barely swallowing it down. “She’s a _youngling_ who might be sold into slavery! Or _worse!”_ His voice was tight with tension, and Plo’s body language became more forbidding. “Why are the Jedi always so _kriffing_ passive? Why do we always give up? Why can’t I help find her? She’s my _responsibility_ , Plo! She was too young to have been on a battlefield in the first place, let alone been separated from me!”

His comlink lit up suddenly, and he frowned at it. It was text only, and from Obi-Wan. It just said, _Trandosha._

Anakin straightened, feeling a thrill of electricity and relief. He could always count on his Master. He turned and looked eagerly for Rex, signalling him to ready a ship. He glanced at Master Plo, who had his arms crossed and seemed extremely unimpressed. Anakin felt a hot surge of emotion. 

Plo knew Ahsoka. Plo had found Ahsoka as a youngling, travelled with her, fought with her. Plo _should care about where Ahsoka was going to be sold and used._ Anakin swallowed his resentment and turned away. “Go back to Coruscant without me, Master Plo. I will come when I have my Padawan.”

“You will be violating orders, Skywalker,” Plo’s voice was serious and admonitory. “Absent without leave. That is not acceptable for a Jedi and a General. You will be reprimanded by the Council, and there _will_ be consequences.”

“I don’t care!” Anakin growled. “I am wasting time talking to you. I’m sorry, but I’m not going back until she’s safe.” He turned on his heel and stormed away, getting on the com with Rex and asking for volunteers from the 501st.

It was time to break some rules. 

—

TRANDOSHA 3

“We used to be Jedi younglings.”

“What?” Ahsoka looked at her rescuer with horror. A group of three other Force sensitive younglings had pulled her away from certain death, a fact for which she was grateful—but she couldn’t believe they had been willing to stand aside and let the non-Force sensitives get chased down and murdered before their eyes. Every time Ahsoka closed her eyes she saw them die.

It felt _so wrong,_ even if they really were right and her efforts would have only gotten her killed. She shook her head and tried again. “What do you mean by ‘used to be?’”

The leader only shook her head resentfully and darted away, beckoning Ahsoka to follow her. They made it eventually to a kind of tree fort that could only be reached using Force-assisted jumps and Force-assisted reflexes. No wonder they’d left the others behind, if it would have been impossible for them to even reach shelter.

The Twi’lek youngling’s tone was bitter as they walked inside. “We never really stood a chance. They attacked us on a training mission, killed our crèchemaster. We were captured and brought here.” He sat, exhausted and defeated. “We've been stuck here for more rotations than we can count.”

“No one has come for us.” The young Cerean sounded equally resigned, his eyes lost and betrayed. “I doubt anyone is still looking.”

Ahsoka’s head snapped back slightly. It was incredible to her that nobody would look for missing younglings, and yet—there was a war happening. All the Masters were busy leading an army. _Who would be free to look? Who would place the lives of young Jedi ahead of the security of a planet? That wouldn’t be the Jedi way..._

It made her feel sick to her stomach. She asked numbly, “Why would they take younglings?”

“Because Jedi Knights are too powerful for them.” The leader sneered before her face softened slightly. “I'm Kalifa. This is O-Mer and Jinx. Who are you?”

“Ahsoka Tano.” She bowed her head respectfully. “I was captured during the Battle of Felucia. I'm a Padawan learner. What's… what’s the situation like here?”

“You'd better sit down.” Kalifa gestured towards their small fire pit. Ahsoka settled close to the flames, appreciating the warmth. Kalifa’s voice was quiet and simmering with rage. “We were taken by those foul lizards for their amusement. To be hunted, killed and mounted on their wall as trophies.”

“Chew on that, _Padawan_ , then rest.” Jinx lay back, momentary resentment at her status almost immediately turning into a reassuring murmur. “You'll need your strength.”

Kalifa pursed her lips and nodded, laying back herself. Ahsoka didn’t feel very tired, and wandered back over to the door, sitting and staring sadly at the sky. She sent out a fervent wish into the Force that Master Obi-Wan had heard her, and that help was on the way. She hoped that they would come for her—that Skyguy would consider her important enough to search for.

She eventually nodded off and fell asleep in that same position, face pointed towards the stars. Her dreams were full of strange and haunting images; nothing made sense and everything was full of danger. She was alone, she was surrounded. Troopers everywhere began pointing their blasters at her instead of at droids. 

A tremble in the Force jerked her awake.

Ahsoka’s head shot up the moment Skyguy’s Force signature bloomed in the system. He must have just dropped from hyperspace. She jumped up with excitement, almost crowing with sheer excitement and satisfaction. 

_Her Master looked for her, of course he would. She never should have doubted him. Skyguy would never, ever give up on her._

The eyes of the other younglings followed her sudden movements warily, easily startled awake. She felt bad for scaring them, but couldn’t help looking up excitedly at the sky. She turned to Kalifa and grinned. “Someone was looking for me! They’ve come to take us home.”

Kalifa and O-Mer exchanged incredulous glances, and Jinx stuttered. “R-really?” 

“Yes!” Ahsoka looked back at the sky, pointing at the growing dot. “My Master came for me. I knew he would. Skyguy would never let me go like that.” She spoke with satisfaction, barely resisting dancing in place.

“His name is Skyguy?” Kalifa asked doubtfully. “Master Skyguy?”

“What? No.” Ahsoka looked at her with a laugh. “His name is Anakin Skywalker, and he’s come to rescue us.” 

The other younglings all stood up quickly. “The Chosen One?” O-Mer asked incredulously. _“The Hero With No Fear_ is your Master? _He_ came for us?”

Ahsoka laughed again as the Twilight came into view. “Yes, I knew he would.” Her cheeks were beginning to ache with the size of her smile. She reached out with the bond, and sighed when she felt him reach back desperately. Closing her eyes, she fell into the bond and pulled at his attention, leading him to them.

O-mer and Jinx were bustling around happily, and Kalifa was staring at the ship with shock. A small smile crossed her face. “Thank you, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing her gently. “I’m glad the Force brought me here. You deserved to be rescued.” She looked away and let Kalifa blink away tears without comment. 

A cable dropped down, and the four younglings scampered up it quickly, crawling into the cargo bay. Ahsoka looked around and then darted forward, throwing her arms around Anakin and clinging to him tight.

He held her close, murmuring with confusion, “Where are your lightsabers, Snips? Your armor? Why are you here?”

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes at the sky, looking for the Trandoshan ship. “They took them from me, Master. I don’t know where they’re keeping them. The Trandoshans dropped me here because they hunt Jedi younglings for sport.”

“What?!” Anakin said, looking with horror at the others. Rex was putting a blanket around Kalifa’s shoulders, and Fives was crouched down, consoling a sobbing Jinx. “How long have they been here?”

“Long enough they can’t remember, Master. They don’t know how many rotations. Did you hear anything about a captured clan of younglings?” Anakin shook his head, lips pressed together tightly. Ahsoka sighed. “I hadn’t either.” 

She took a long shaky breath, overwhelmed by the growing strength of Anakin’s anger in the Force. The other younglings looked over, alarmed. “Let’s go... ” Anakin gestured vaguely. “Let’s go get your armor back. I want to… I want to… _Talk_ to them about that...”

Ahsoka grinned. “Thank you, Master.”

—

CORUSCANT

Obi-Wan didn’t know what exactly was going to happen when Anakin was summoned to report to the Council for a disciplinary session, and he had a very, very bad feeling about it. 

“Glad to see you and Ahsoka back at the Temple, we are.” Yoda spoke, voice solemn. “But much to discuss, there is.”

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Anakin agreed in a wary tone. There was a full assembly of all twelve members of the Council, although luckily most were only attending in holo. Obi-Wan could tell that Anakin still felt uncomfortable and extremely observed, standing alone. 

At least he couldn’t feel Master Windu pressing him in the Force. Obi-Wan was very grateful that Mace was out in the field. He had a suspicion that this meeting would make Anakin angry, and Windu’s presence in the Force would have only compounded the issue. 

“Defy orders, you did,” Yoda said sadly. “Driven by attachment, your choices were. Your emotions, you were not able to let go, and like a Jedi, that was not.”

Obi-Wan did not like the sound of that, and it seemed like Anakin didn’t either. His posture stiffened and his chin rose. “They were hunting younglings for sport, Master Yoda. Stuffing them and mounting them on the wall!” Anakin’s eyes flicked around at the other Masters, his voice becoming incredulous and judgemental. “Are you saying I should have sat back and let that happen? That’s absurd! The Jedi should never have let their younglings be taken and _hunted down!”_

Yoda shook his head. “Follow orders, a Jedi _must_. Not ready to teach, these events show you to be.” His voice was emphatic, and Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat. “Removed from your instruction, Padawan Tano will be.”

Anakin‘s eyes opened wide. “What?” 

Yoda’s eyes narrowed, and Obi-Wan stared at him with growing horror. “A Padawan, you no longer have. When learned to let go, you have, another Padawan may you seek.”

“What?!” Anakin repeated himself, louder this time, tone sharp. “Because I saved her, I can’t teach her?” 

Yoda gave Anakin an unreadable look, not immediately responding. Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s emotions roiling and almost shouted across the bond. _“Anakin! Calm down. Now!”_

Anakin’s jaw clenched. _“He can’t do this, Master! I can’t lose her!”_

Obi-Wan broke the silence, his voice respectful. “Master Yoda, surely this is an excessive move. Separating a Master and Padawan team is… Isn’t that disproportionate?”

“No,” Yoda shook his head sadly at him too. “Disproportionate it is not. Unable to let go, Skywalker is. Only worse will it become, if more time is given. Let go, he must.”

“Doesn’t Ahsoka have a say in this?” Anakin crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. “What’s going to happen to her? She deserves to be a Knight someday.”

“A Knight she will be.” Yoda’s ears twitched. “Reassigned, she will be. A new Master to guide her to Knighthood, she will have.”

“Who?” Anakin almost growled. Obi-Wan sent another wave of calm through the Force, which was ignored. “Who are you giving my Padawan to?”

Yoda’s eyes slid from Anakin to Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan felt a thrill of dread. “Master Kenobi, a new Padawan you will take.”

“No—” Obi-Wan shook his head, frowning. “No, Master Yoda. I do not want a Padawan at this time. If she _truly_ must be reassigned, there are other options. Do not give her to me.” Anakin was staring at him, eyes full of emotion that Obi-Wan couldn’t parse.

“Because of attachment, this request is made!” Yoda tapped his stick against his palm in frustration before pointing it at Obi-Wan, his tone almost accusatory. “A new Padawan you need. Too attached, you are. Knight Skywalker, your Padawan, he is not!”

“I know he’s not,” Obi-Wan said with careful diction, hyperaware of the eyes of the other eleven members of the Council. “That is not what is prompting my request.”

Yoda hummed doubtfully. “Wrong, I am not. Let go, you _both_ must. Too attached, you are. Assigned apart, you will continue to be.”

“We’re fighting a war!” Anakin’s voice was very loud, his posture tense. He gestured around sharply, “This cannot be more important than winning battles, protecting planets!”

Yoda frowned, eyes tracking Anakin’s hands. His voice was disappointed. “Much _more_ important, it is, for _you_. Much to learn, you still have.”

“Was this your plan all along?” Anakin sounded resentful, glancing around suspiciously at all the other Masters and finally focusing on Obi-Wan for a long moment before returning to Yoda. “Did you want me to fail? To teach me a lesson?”

Yoda shook his head sadly, ears drooping. “Wanted you to succeed, I did. Learn from this failure, you will. Dismissed, you are. Tell Padawan Tano, you will, that move quarters, she must.”

Anakin spun and strode angrily from the room. An almost awkward silence fell behind at the display of temper. Obi-Wan looked sideways at Yoda. “ _Was_ this your plan all along?”

Yoda’s ears flicked with annoyance. “Knew it might happen, I did. Wanted it to happen, I did not!”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan bowed slightly in his chair, dipping his head respectfully. “Is that the content of today’s session? Are we dismissed as well?”

“No,” Yoda gave him a knowing look. “More to the Council session, there is. Let him go, you _must_. Come to terms with this, Skywalker will—need your help, he does not!”

“Yes, Master Yoda.” Obi-Wan nodded again and reinforced his shields by relaxing his posture, smoothing his face, projecting equanimity into the Force. 

Yoda nodded with satisfaction, and turned to the holo of Master Windu. “An updated mission report, do you have?”

“Yes,” Windu’s voice sounded too satisfied. “In fact...”

Obi-Wan swallowed, his attention wavering as he tried to think through the consequences of removing Ahsoka—both on Anakin himself and on their relationship. He wasn’t looking forward to adding an apprentice to the growing list of things that he’d taken from Anakin. 

Would _only Rex_ even be enough to keep Anakin level? Would Anakin be able to handle himself without the stabilizing presence of his Padawan? If he no longer had to be responsible for anyone but himself and his troops? If they were to be assigned apart indefinitely?

_What was the Council thinking, alienating him like this? It was almost as if…_

Obi-Wan narrowly resisted emoting his frustration. The Chancellor probably had a hand in this somehow. He was obviously beginning his play for Anakin’s loyalties—pulling him away, cutting at his roots, exacerbating his loneliness. Making _Palpatine_ the one true safe harbor.

Obi-Wan hastily crushed down the feeling of loathing that was blooming in his gut. The Council Chamber was not the correct forum for him to forget himself. Yoda was not a fool, no matter how blind to the dark side of the Force. He must have picked up on their unbroken bond _somehow_.

Despite that, Obi-Wan still compulsively reached out with the Force, stroking anxiously against the fringes of Anakin’s mind. Anakin withdrew instead of reaching back, and Obi-Wan looked at the ceiling for a long moment to keep composure. There was nothing he could do now, and Anakin’s pain and anger would only grow. 

This was all _so kriffing unhelpful_.

—

“Anakin?”

Anakin used the Force to open the door to his rooms and called out flatly, “Yes, Obi-Wan?” He did not move from his position sprawled on the bare mattress in Ahsoka’s old bedroom. His eyes continued to lazily wander around the empty room, seeing what used to be there. 

It hurt to be in her old room, but he just couldn’t seem to leave. Ahsoka had just finished moving her things into Obi-Wan’s apartment and was busy settling into Anakin’s old Padawan room. She was _gone_ , and Anakin had been _replaced_. 

He was alone. 

Anakin reflected on how he hadn’t even had very much time with Snips, all things considered, but he had still managed to become so _attached._ Moving her scanty belongings had been one of the most difficult and emotional things that Anakin had ever had to do.   


Ahsoka hadn’t wanted to go. She had been so upset, and he hadn’t been able to comfort her. Leaving her at Obi-Wan’s reminded him of leaving his mom behind, and he really didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment. 

“Can I come in?”

_Especially Obi-Wan._

Anakin’s voice stayed level. “If you need to, yeah.”

Obi-Wan hovered by the doorway, washing him with concern in the Force. Words washed over Anakin through the bond, _“Are you alright, dear one?”_

“No.” Anakin lifted his head up and frowned at Obi-Wan for a moment before dropping it back to the mattress and staring fixedly at the ceiling. “I’m not alright. I’ve lost everybody at once. You _and_ Snips…”

Obi-Wan shook his head vehemently, drawing closer and sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand found Anakin’s and he squeezed it gently. His words echoed through Anakin’s mind, heavy with his feelings of reassurance and possession. “ _You will never lose me, Anakin. Not ever. I am always and have always been yours.”_

“You’re Ahsoka’s now.” Anakin’s voice was weak. “There’s nobody that’s mine.”

Obi-Wan hummed negatively, his hand moving to push messy curls off Anakin’s forehead. “She’s always been _ours_ , Anakin. Yours _and_ mine. Ours. Yoda’s opinions about it don’t matter. I will make sure that you spend time together through the bond.”

Anakin sighed and closed his eyes. “You know it’s not the same.”

“I know, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sounded so earnest, it made Anakin’s heart ache. He pushed his face into Obi-Wan’s hand, seeing contact. Obi-Wan cupped his cheek, his fingers sliding into his hair while his thumb stroked gently along his cheekbone. “I’m _trying_ , Anakin. I really didn’t want this to happen.”

“Why couldn’t you stop it?” His eyes opened, meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze. “Why doesn’t your seat on the Council actually ever seem to do anything, Obi-Wan? We’re _never_ together, and now we’ll never be together again. Yoda said so.” Anakin’s voice began as a whine, but slowly ramped up almost into an accusation. 

Obi-Wan shook his head fiercely. “Anakin, the Force itself disagrees with Yoda. You and I are _always_ together. We are connected in ways that the Jedi will never appreciate or understand.” He looked deeply into Anakin’s eyes, as if trying to make him believe his sincerity. “You are mine and I am yours, Padawan.”

The word unexpectedly made Anakin flinch. He looked away, voice resentful. “I’m not your Padawan, you have a new one.”

“You will always be my Padawan, Anakin. _Always,”_ Obi-Wan vowed to him, and kissed him gently. “You _are_ my Apprentice. You’re the most important person in my life, I need you to know that.”

“Am I?” Anakin sounded slightly dubious. “I know you. I know how you are about _responsibilities_. You’re going to become distracted teaching Ahsoka. You won’t have time for me, between that and the war!”

_And you don’t love me, anyway..._

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sounded exasperated, his hold on Anakin’s face tightening slightly and he pulled his head around to meet his eyes. “Nothing has to change. Nothing will change. Not between us.”

“I don’t…” Anakin swallowed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Come here, Anakin,” Obi-Wan opened his arms, inviting him to come close. When Anakin hesitated, Obi-Wan said, _“Please,_ Padawan. _Please_ come here.”

Anakin took a deep breath and sat up, throwing himself forward into Obi-Wan’s embrace, clinging to him tightly. Obi-Wan’s arms wrapped him up, pulling him close. Anakin whispered, “Will you make me feel better, Master?”

Obi-Wan’s voice was serious and low. “Any time, _always_ , however you need. I’m always here for you first.”

“Promise?” Anakin’s voice felt small. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan kissed him again softly, his eyes warm and his tone possessive. “I promise, Padawan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s unexpectedly easy to write a dark story when canon gives you gifts like sporthunting and stuffing children!!
> 
> Thanks for reading! I love seeing comments and theories, and I appreciate how many people are enjoying everything going up in flames. Next chap will prob be up in about a week! ❤️


	15. Ripping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter 15: Ripping! Alternatively titled, _Anakin Skywalker and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day._
> 
> I’ll admit that I swapped the order of some events from the canonical first few months of 20BBY, so please forgive me for that and I hope you enjoy some Citadel action :) Thanks for reading! 

CORUSCANT

20BBY

“They took me off the mission!” Anakin’s voice was too loud. He was looking fixedly out of the transparisteel windows of the Chancellor’s office, seeing nothing, fists clenched with impotent rage. “The Council is making Obi-Wan take _Snips_ to the Citadel instead of me, even though I had specifically requested she be excluded! It’s too dangerous for her to have gone!”

The Chancellor came to stand beside him, and gave him a concerned look, meeting his eyes in the faint reflection of the window. “It seems strange that Master Kenobi would put your Padawan in danger with such a reckless decision.” Palpatine’s tone was cautious. “Your _former_ Padawan, I mean. It’s unusual for him to be so irresponsible.” 

It seemed to Anakin that the Chancellor didn’t really want to criticize Obi-Wan. He appreciated the sentiment, no matter how frustrated he was with Obi-Wan these days. _He missed him, needed him. He was losing him—he’d already lost him._

“He didn’t want to take her either,” Anakin sighed. At least he was sure that Obi-Wan would always protect Ahsoka—it was about the only thing in the galaxy he was sure about. His brow furrowed, his tone dark. “They made him take her, like it was some kind of test. They’re always testing us.”

“It’s almost as if the Council is trying to make sure he’s negligent enough to be a guardian.” Palpatine sounded disturbed to Anakin’s ears.

Anakin nodded fiercely. “That’s exactly what it is. Force forbid anyone try to take care of anyone else ever, or try too hard to protect them.” His voice grew mocking, “ _That’s attachment, Skywalker! It’s not the Jedi Way.”_

“It’s dreadfully unfair, my boy,” Palpatine’s voice was sympathetic. “I simply don’t understand how the Council can treat you both this way.”

“It is _so_ unfair,” Anakin looked at the ceiling, trying to keep his emotions under control. He hadn’t seen Obi-Wan alone for long enough to give him his darkness— _to feel his acceptance, feel his forgiveness, feel his protection_ —before Obi-Wan had been forced to leave for Lola Sayu to rescue Master Piell. 

As a result, Anakin’s rage was bubbling ever closer to the surface. He tried and failed to keep the scorn out of his voice. “I even rescued the other Jedi younglings that _they_ had left for dead. I should have been _rewarded_ , not punished.”

“Yes, you should have been!” Palpatine shook his head. “And then instead to turn around and give your Padawan learner to Master Kenobi, that’s just cruel.” He put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze, and Anakin smiled at him slightly. Palpatine asked, his tone doubtful, “Do you think he requested it? I didn’t think he’d be so eager to replace you, and with your own Padawan no less.”

Anakin’s jaw clenched at the word _replace_. 

“No.” He sighed and consciously relaxed his face like Obi-Wan had taught him. “He didn’t know either, they surprised him too. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d held a whole meeting without the two of us, just so they could plan to surprise us and see how we reacted.” He growled in frustration, putting his fist against the window. He wanted to smash it. “Everything is always a test, with them.”

“Why they don’t trust you, Anakin, is beyond comprehension. You are the best and most skilled Jedi I’ve ever known.” Palpatine’s voice was kind, and Anakin felt a surge of gratitude before it turned back into resentment.

“That’s just it, they _don’t_ trust me, and I don’t know why!” Anakin huffed a loud breath in frustration, turning back towards the red room and playing resentfully with the straps on his gloved wrist. “I’d done everything they’d ever asked me to do before, even if I didn’t want to. I rescued a Hutt because of them!” He spat the word _Hutt._

Palpatine gave him a long, thoughtful look. “Perhaps they don’t trust you because they sense that you have an independent mind and a good heart. They seem to have neither, at times.” His tone was wry.

Anakin laughed without humor. “You’re right about that. I could not _believe_ Master Plo’s response to all this. I had thought he was kind, and Ahsoka _loves_ him. That’s why _she_ rescued _him_ back at the beginning of the war, remember that?” Palpatine nodded and Anakin narrowed his eyes, looking away. “Without _her_ , he would’ve died years ago—but when she really needed his help, he refused to provide it. He chose some arbitrary rule instead, like _that_ is more important to him than Ahsoka’s life!” His volume was rising again, but he didn’t care to keep it down.

“Perhaps to him it is, my boy.” Palpatine shook his head, sounding disappointed. “Perhaps it is.”

“That’s awful!” Anakin turned suddenly and began to pace. He was so mad he couldn’t stay still. His hands clenched and unclenched, and he felt almost shaky with indignation. “What is _wrong_ with the Jedi? Why can’t they see that what they’re doing is terrible? They had no right to take Ahsoka away from me, I was only doing the right thing in getting her back! Why can’t they see that? What is _wrong_ with them?!”

“I have an idea to make you feel better,” Palpatine said suddenly, and Anakin paused from his rant to look over at him curiously. Palpatine returned to his desk and sat down, sighing with relief to be off his feet. 

Anakin suddenly felt bad—the Chancellor was already under so much stress, he shouldn’t be adding to it with his own small problems. At least Palpatine didn’t seem bothered by Anakin’s emotional outburst. “What is it, Chancellor?”

A small, fond smile appeared on the Chancellor’s face, and he gestured an invitation for Anakin to take the seat across from him. “I was just speaking with Senator Amidala about the unfortunate situation on Naboo. She could certainly use a Jedi escort to talk the Gungans out of marching on Theed, and I could send you to accompany her, if you’d like. You could spend some time with an old friend, and take a break from all these… politics.”

“Go with Padmé to Naboo?” Anakin felt a surge of mixed emotions. Obi-Wan’s angry face flashed suddenly in his mind, and Anakin almost scowled. _Obi-Wan barely had time for him these days anyway, so why’d it even matter what he thought?_ He gave the Chancellor a grateful smile. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Good,” Palpatine smiled back at him, eyes twinkling. “I will see that it is done.”

Anakin sat heavily in one of the visitor’s chairs, and tried to calm down. Palpatine pressed a button on his desk, summoning tea, and Anakin ran a hand over his face, thinking about Padmé. Going to Naboo might be nice. _Obi-Wan would hate it. Obi-Wan would be jealous._ The thought made him smile. 

“Thank you, Chancellor.”

—

LOLA SAYU

It should not have been _quite_ so distracting to Obi-Wan to know that at that very moment, on the other side of the galaxy, Anakin was alone in the company of Senator Amidala, visiting the planet where they’d… fallen in _love_. 

He could not afford to be distracted. 

Obi-Wan and his squad were free-climbing up the sheer face of the prison complex called the Citadel—the wind was howling at dangerous speed, the electromines studding the wall crackled with arcs of deadly voltage, and the lava pit below radiated heat even up to his current altitude. 

Ahsoka was below him, and he looked down to check on her location. She gave him the _all-good_ hand gesture and he nodded and looked back up. At least _someone_ had enthusiasm about being a part of the rescue mission. He did worry slightly about her appetite for risk and her disdain for the Council, but really—when compared to Anakin, she was a very manageable Apprentice.

The memory of Anakin on his knees flashed into his mind, his words running on a loop. _I loved her, Master. I asked her to marry me. I wanted to be with her forever, she said no._ Obi-Wan’s nostrils flared and he pressed his lips together, grip tightening involuntarily. _I wanted to be with her forever. She said no._ He moved his feet higher up before moving his hands, reaching as far as he could while making sure to keep his center of gravity tight against the wall. 

_I loved her, Master. She said no._

Obi-Wan couldn’t bear to imagine a scenario where the Senator’s opinion on that matter had changed. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He needed to _focus_. They were only halfway up the wall, and he was already growing fatigued. He hadn’t been sleeping well. 

When the assignment request for Anakin to travel to Naboo with the Senator had come to the Council from the Chancellor’s office, Obi-Wan had to resist with every single ounce of willpower he possessed from drawing attention to just how much he absolutely _despised_ that plan. He had known that it wouldn’t help his case in the slightest if he were to vehemently protest. 

Darth Sidious was certainly clever and worked fast, Obi-Wan almost had to give him credit—it was an _excellent_ move in the game for Anakin’s loyalties, another _brilliant_ isolating technique, and the Jedi had been more than happy to accomodate his request. Yoda had seemed almost relieved to have an excuse to pull Anakin from the Citadel team. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t really believed that the Council would have let both of them go anyway—despite the fact that there was _nobody_ in the Order with a better chance to succeed at the rescue and getting the intel than _the Team_. Obi-Wan didn’t think they’d ever let them be _the Team_ again. 

Not after that disastrous disciplinary meeting. 

Anakin had still not recovered from it, not really. Obi-Wan was terribly worried about him, and missed him constantly. He _hated_ the separation just as much as Anakin did—even more, because he knew where it would lead. He _hated_ the Council for doing it to them, _hated_ himself for letting them do it. He didn’t know what else to do.

He wished beyond reason that he could initiate the bond, and see how Anakin was doing. _What_ he was doing. _Who..._

Obi-Wan’s hand almost slipped, and he clenched his jaw and refocused. Palpatine also seemed to know exactly how to set Obi-Wan up to _die_ on a mission. Distract him with his emotions and let the Separatists do the dirty work. Obi-Wan _refused_ to die here, and he could not die now. He _refused_ to let Sidious have Anakin without a fight. 

_She couldn’t have him either. Anakin wasn’t available to be taken. Anakin was his._

_

NABOO

Anakin walked two paces behind Padmé, his eyes caught on the way her brown hair managed to shine in the dappled light of the forest. They’d almost reached the shore of Lake Paonga and their rendezvous-point with Jar Jar. It had been a pleasant trip so far, and it was exactly as relaxing as he’d hoped to be back on Naboo—back with Padmé—no matter the amount of unrest they were there to solve.

Padmé had been so excited to see him, despite the awkward way their first mission together had ended. Anakin figured that they were both different people now, older and more experienced. She’d smiled at him kindly, and said she’d been worried about him, and that she’d followed the news about him. Her voice was familiar and soothing—so soft and sweet. 

_All he could think about was Obi-Wan._

Padmé looked over her shoulder, her eyes filled with curiosity. “The Chancellor told me the strangest thing about Master Kenobi,” Anakin frowned at the thought of them talking about Obi-Wan behind his back, and she looked vaguely apologetic before continuing. “Chancellor Palpatine told me he’d heard a rumor that Master Kenobi was colluding with Count Dooku and aiding the Separatists, drawing out the war.”

Anakin immediately scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I know for a fact that Obi-Wan’s trying to win the war as fast as possible.” His tone was defensive. “I also know that Obi-Wan _hates_ Dooku for all the suffering he’s caused.” He swallowed, and tried very hard _not_ to think about Obi-Wan’s standing order to spare Dooku’s life. Anakin continued speaking, sounding less certain. “I’m sure he’ll take out Dooku when the time is right.”

“Isn’t…” Padmé’s brow creased for a moment, and she looked confused. “Isn’t it the right time as soon as you see him? I also heard…” She looked away and spoke quickly, as if ashamed to be repeating gossip. “I heard several Senators say that he let Dooku escape on Florrum.”

“What? That is _absurd_.” Anakin felt aghast. He couldn’t _believe_ she’d listen to such ridiculous rumors, let alone repeat them. “I was there, Padmé, and Obi-Wan did _not_ do that.”

“I wonder why people in the Senate were talking about it,” Padmé shook her head, pushing a low-hanging branch out of her way absently. “I suppose a smear campaign against a popular General is not unheard of during a war, but it seems unlikely to me to be _completely_ baseless, Ani.”

Anakin shrugged helplessly, as the branch swung back, almost hitting Anakin in the face by accident before he got a hand up. He scowled at her back. “It _is_ baseless. I think maybe the Senators just don’t like how popular he is with the troopers and on the HoloNet,” he mused, slightly bitter. “Everybody in the galaxy seems to _love_ Obi-Wan.” 

Padmé laughed in agreement, and Anakin almost smiled back involuntarily at the bright, tinkling sound. Her tone was light and amused. “Everyone loves him except half the Loyalist Committee. They talk about him all the time. The Military Oversight Committee does it too—they all say he’s too much of a _military_ leader, not a peacekeeper.”

“But…” Anakin gaped at her. “They’re the ones who put him in charge of the military! What else is he supposed to be?”

Padmé pursed her lips. “They want him to be more like any other anonymous Jedi, I suppose. He _is_ too popular, Ani. Too famous. Senators don’t like that in High Generals, it makes them uncomfortable.”

“So they spread rumors that he’s a traitor?“ Anakin was offended on Obi-Wan’s behalf. Actually, he was more than offended—he was almost furious. _How dare they?_ “He’s doing his best to stop the war. He wants peace more than anyone. He—”

“Peace under the Republic?” Padmé gave him a sideways look that cut off his momentum. Her voice grew more quiet and cautious, and Anakin had to lean closer to hear her words. “Or peace under a new kind of government? He’s been making promises to the army that he has no authority to keep.”

Anakin stared at her, his stomach dropping at the amount of genuine anxiety that began to radiate out from her in the Force. “What do you mean?

“He’s… he’s doing a lot of things that historically have led to the end of democracy, Ani.” Padmé’s walk towards the shore of the lake was quick and confident, but her voice was hesitant. “I… I am worried about a military coup. The Chancellor is too, but he told me not to tell you. I don’t know why he didn’t want you to know.”

“Obi-Wan isn’t... He’s not a traitor,” Anakin said weakly, trying to match her pace. “He’s trying to end the war and protect people, not just overthrow the government to seize power for himself. He’s not working with Dooku to extend the war. He’s not.” 

Despite the words, he still felt a surge of unease as his memory showed him Obi-Wan’s occasionally inscrutable face and blank Force signature again. 

_Even if Obi-Wan did bring down the Republic, he’d be a much better leader than the corrupt Senate... right? The Chancellor and Padmé must be wrong about him... right? Obi-Wan would have told Anakin if the plan had changed about Dooku... right?_

“I hope you’re right about him, Ani.“ Padmé sighed, and looked away. They’d finally reached the bank, and just on time. She waved to Jar Jar as he surfaced. “I really hope you’re right.”

—

NABOO / LOLA SAYU

Obi-Wan watched another trooper fall and grimly fixed his grip on the hilt of his lightsaber, spinning the blade faster. They were getting overwhelmed, and Ahsoka was alone protecting their flank. It was too much for them. He grimaced and pushed himself harder.

“Let me help!” Anakin said sharply. Obi-Wan looked over, startled at his voice, before shaking his head and turning back to the fight. Anakin followed after him, frustrated. “We practiced for this! Please, Master, let me help.”

“Are you sure?” Obi-Wan asked distractedly, his lightsaber flashing and returning blaster bolts at a rapid pace as he moved down the hallway. He decapitated a commando droid and spun, barely preventing a blaster bolt from taking down Cody. “What about your mission?”

“It’s not more important than you and Ahsoka!” Anakin stood close to Obi-Wan and ignited his blade, careful not to touch him. Obi-Wan didn’t want to get accidentally pulled to Naboo and away from Ahsoka and the men, and leave them unprotected and surrounded by droids. Anakin offered his hand, “Master, please!”

Obi-Wan growled and tossed his lightsaber into his left hand, grabbing Anakin with his right—he always had been better at wielding with his off-hand than Anakin. The sound of Anakin’s lightsaber joining in the battle and Cody’s bark of surprise made Obi-Wan smile slightly. 

Anakin used the Force to bind their hands together tightly, and they worked together to bring down the commando droids as efficiently as possible, guarding each other and using their contact to maneuver each other. They moved around each other and supported each other flawlessly, their fighting seeming almost choreographed in its smooth, relentless application of violence. 

It really _was_ much easier and more enjoyable to fight back-to-back with his Padawan again, and Obi-Wan’s smile stuck around. He tried not to get too distracted by Anakin’s presence in the Force, and tried not to enjoy their small amount of contact too much. It had been too long since they’d touched, and his body never stopped craving it. 

Obi-Wan heard Ahsoka cry out as he cut down the last droid. He whipped his head around and heard Anakin call out, “Ahsoka!”

“I’m fine, Master!” She sounded relieved. “It nearly got me, but Waxer shot it!”

“Nice work, Waxer,” Obi-Wan said gratefully, breathing a little hard. “We have to keep moving...” He grimaced. “I just realized we are going to have to find a way to wipe the surveillance tapes of the entire facility. I wasn’t thinking clearly, bringing you across,” he gave Anakin a slightly sour look. Anakin shrugged unapologetically, and Obi-Wan squeezed his hand. “Thank you for your help though, Padawan.”

Anakin grinned back at him for a moment, before seeming to hear something over Obi-Wan’s shoulder. His eyes widened and he yanked Obi-Wan hard to the left—and the blaster bolt meant for Obi-Wan’s back connected with Anakin’s side, making him curl around the wound instinctively, and let out a pained whimper. 

Obi-Wan felt a surge of emotion—stronger perhaps than any emotion ever before in his entire life. Anakin’s whimper replayed in his mind as he turned his head to see a group of nine commando droids coming very quickly down the corridor at them. He heard Ahsoka’s lightsabers ignite, but he ignored the sound. Time seemed to slow down.

_He could feel Anakin’s agony shrieking in the Force._

Obi-Wan swiftly clipped his lightsaber to his belt and held out his left hand, fingers extended, focusing intently. His power lashed out, grasping and holding, containing and restraining. All of the droids immediately froze in place. Ahsoka gasped and stood up straight, her arms going slack by her sides. 

Obi-Wan raised his hand, and the droids rose as one into the air and away from the walls. He snarled as his hand clenched tight into a fist, and all the droids were suddenly _crushed_ with immense force into small balls of scrap, the hallway filled with a loud, sharp crunch of metal on metal.

Obi-Wan’s eyes slid to the corner of the hallway and he lifted his hand again, crushing all the cameras and sensors that he could sense in the Force. 

He then reached out a third time, and focused intently on electricity in the way that Darth Solon had taught him. He perceived clearly for the first time how all the energy captured in the droid’s power packs and portable generators seemed to hum in the Force, whispering to him, asking to be set free. 

Obi-Wan obliged, pulling all the strength he could from his own and Anakin’s resonant darkness. He ripped free as much energy as he could away from every droid he could sense—above, below, and around them—powering them all down. The energy dissipated harmlessly, and the Force itself felt quieter. 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and looked around with satisfaction. Within the space of a few heartbeats, he had ensured that they were all safe. _Why had he been holding back before? Why had he let Anakin get hurt?_

He looked back at Anakin, who was unsteady on his feet, gaping at him. Anakin’s gloved hand was red with blood, pressed against his side. Ahsoka was hovering, seeming unsure of what to do about Anakin’s injury and very, very unsure of what to do about Obi-Wan’s eyes that were likely shining gold.

“Are you close to a medic?” Obi-Wan asked Anakin, voice low. “If I let go of you, what will happen?”

“I’m...” Anakin’s voice was almost inaudible. “I was in the underwater city. They’ll… They’ll help me.”

Obi-Wan squeezed his hand as tightly as he could, pulling him close, his other hand holding the back of Anakin’s neck. He pressed their foreheads together, and reluctantly pulled back, meeting Anakin’s pain-glazed eyes. “I need you to get medical care, Padawan. I’m going to let you go.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin nodded, legs going weak and moving to sit down. Obi-Wan helped him down gently. Anakin murmured to him, “I will be fine. You… take care of Snips, alright? Take care of my Padawan.”

“I’ll be fine, Master!” Ahsoka sounded on the verge of tears. “I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

“Good,” Anakin said vaguely. “Be safe, Master.”

Obi-Wan kissed his forehead and inhaled deeply, trying to fix the scent of Anakin’s hair in his mind. He whispered, “Try to heal yourself, Padawan, I know you can do it. Feel into the living Force around you. It will help you, it _must_.”

Anakin nodded shakily. Obi-Wan took a steadying breath, and let go of his hand.

There was a very loud moment of silence in the hall when Anakin disappeared from the sight of everybody else. Anakin’s slumped body remained visible to Obi-Wan, the bond holding on for a few moments more before Anakin disappeared entirely. Obi-Wan finally looked up, trying to regain control. “We have to keep moving,” he said, his voice coming out dark and intent. 

Ahsoka looked scared, but she also looked very determined. She finally put her lightsabers back on her belt and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Obi-Wan looked to Cody and Cody also signaled readiness. Obi-Wan nodded in satisfaction and turned. “Let’s wipe the tapes first.”

“Yes, sir!”

—

NABOO

“Anakin!” Padmé shouted, her voice ringing with panic. “What happened? Who shot you?” She darted over to where he was lying on the side of the road, pushing aside curious Gungans. He looked up at the glittering dome of the city, his eyes sliding in and out of focus. 

“I...” Anakin pressed his hand against his side, keeping pressure on the wound, trying to stand. He tried to think of a lie, but was in so much pain his brain couldn’t handle complex thought. He was drowning in pain, he was going into shock. He sounded shaky. “I don’t know.”

Padmé bent down, offering to help him up. He gratefully took her hand, and slung an arm around her shoulders, wincing. She began to pull him forward, leading him away from the crowd, speaking quickly. “We need to get you to the medical facility! As soon as we can!”

“Yes…” Anakin agreed reflexively. “Thank you.” He blinked, trying to move his focus away from the agony lancing up his side. “What about Rish Loo? Is Boss Lyonie alright?”

“He’s alive, but unconscious,” Padmé’s tone was pressed. “I got Jar Jar to go try to calm down the mob in his place, but I don’t know if he’ll be able to pull it off!” 

“Alright,” Anakin nodded slightly, his speech slurring a bit. “Jar Jar’s always pulled things off before.”

She laughed almost fondly, “I suppose he has, yes.” She adjusted Anakin’s arm on her shoulders and he hissed involuntarily with pain. “What happened, Ani? I left you for about five minutes, and then I couldn’t find you, and then you were on the ground bleeding! Who shot you?”

“I don’t know!” Anakin repeated through clenched teeth. “I didn’t see, alright?”

Padmé let out a frustrated breath, “I don’t like that. Do you think this all could just be a trap for you? I’m sure you have lots of enemies.”

“Not a trap,” Anakin murmured. His eyes felt heavy. Padmé sped up her pace, pulling him along. They were almost there. “I doubt it.”

“You’re lucky they just brought Boss Lyonie here,” Padmé grumbled. “Or I would have had no idea what to do with you. Maybe you can have the bed next to him.” She teased him lightly. Anakin tried to smile, and said nothing. They were almost there.

_Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were still in so much danger. He should be back at the Citadel with them. He wouldn’t have gotten shot if he’d been there for real. At least Obi-Wan didn’t get shot. Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed to get shot._

_Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed to die._

The very idea made him so angry that he felt the dark side begin to eddy around him—that intangible, shimmering field of available energy, waiting and begging for him to use it. It called to him, sang to him, reached for him.

Anakin felt strangely as if he could almost grasp the living Force inside all the beings around him, and more than grasp it, he began to feel like he could _pull_ from it, _take_ from it, _gain_ _strength_ from it. He suddenly knew with a stroke of inspiration that it really _would_ be possible for him to heal himself with the power of the dark side, just as Obi-Wan had said he could. 

It would only have a _cost_ to the others around him, but it was a cost that currently Anakin was more than willing to let them pay. 

Anakin closed his eyes, letting his feet follow wherever Padmé pointed him. He began breaking down the barriers in his mind, the ones that held him apart from the living Force around him. He felt looser, freer, more connected to every living thing than he ever had before. 

His injury pulsed with agony, and he reached out to the environment to give him the energy he needed to heal, stem the bleeding, and knit the wound closed. He instinctively skimmed and assimilated a fraction of the brilliant living Force from all the beings around him—the Gungans, the plants and animals. Even from Padmé, who glowed incandescent in the Force with her purity of spirit and strength of will.

The dark side didn’t particularly care where the energy would come from, and was indiscriminate and greedy as it reached out and ripped away what Anakin needed to give himself strength.

Anakin’s rage and pride commingled into a sudden wave of emotion so powerful that the wound stopped bleeding all at once. He jerked forward at the odd sensation of the accelerated repair of his flesh and put his hands on his knees, breathing hard. He looked over and saw Padmé frowning at him and blinking quickly, her face oddly pale. “What was that?”

“I used... I used the Force to heal myself, partially.” Anakin shook his head and stood up straight, rolling his shoulders back. _Sith hells but it did still hurt_. “I’m fine to walk, now.” She gave him an extremely dubious look, and he smiled tightly. “I’m not bleeding anymore, I promise.”

“If you say so,” she said. She gave him an imperious look. “You’re still going to get checked out.”

“Of course,” Anakin smiled. _Once a Queen, always a Queen._ “Thank you, Padmé.”

Their walk continued in silence, and Anakin couldn’t stop staring at the dead flowers that lined the path, slumped and grey in their boxes. 

_Had he done that?_

—

LOLA SAYU

“You’re just going to walk into the command center?” Ahsoka couldn’t believe that this was really the plan after all. She ran her hands over her face and took a deep breath. _Everything was fine. Anakin would be fine. Master Obi-Wan wouldn’t let her be hurt. He wouldn’t hurt her, either. He wouldn’t. Everything was fine._

Obi-Wan smiled wickedly, tilting his head to the side and looking almost as cocky as Skyguy on a bad day. Suddenly, Ahsoka could barely resist rolling her eyes. All Obi-Wan’s golden eyes did was seem to make his eyes _twinkle_. Nobody should be that charming, it was absurd. 

Obi-Wan’s voice was encouraging, “You wanted to see me try to mind trick someone, right?”

“Of course, yes, I want to see that!” Ahsoka nodded, her curiosity spiking and she tagged along, following him as he strode quickly down the hallway towards the lift. “Is that what you did to Jabba? Is that why you sent me out of the building? I didn’t think it was possible to do that to a Hutt!” 

She realized that she was chattering nervously—she still couldn’t stop seeing Anakin’s pained face in her mind, hearing the sound of his shaky breathing. _Why had he done that? Why had he had to do that?_ She shook her head and tried to refous. “Shouldn’t we split up so I can rescue Master Piell first though? That’s what you said needed to happen in the briefing…”

Obi-Wan frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think Anakin would forgive me if I let you out of my sight, Ahsoka.”

She nodded, and smiled gratefully. Obi-Wan had still never once called her ‘Padawan.’ Somehow they had both just silently agreed that she wasn’t his Padawan, not really. No matter what the _stupid_ _kriffing_ _Council_ had said. They both knew that Anakin was her real Master. 

“Fine, Master Obi-Wan. Won’t Master Piell be able to sense...” Ahsoka gestured cautiously at Obi-Wan’s eyes. “That?” She was trying extremely hard not to freak out about it herself. She told herself she would think about it later, when they weren’t in so much danger.

Obi-Wan shrugged and gave her a measuring look. She resisted the urge to stand up straight for inspection. He smirked. “It doesn’t matter if Even senses it. He won’t remember for long if he does.”

Ahsoka swallowed and looked away, feeling anxious. The lift was quiet, the troopers seemed numb with grief at their lost brothers. It made Ahsoka want to cry and punch Master Yoda in the face. Nobody should have to feel as much sadness and pain as the men around her were currently attempting to hide from each other. _It was awful._

She watched with incredulous awe as Master Obi-Wan strode almost casually into the command center, freezing the Warden in place with a wave of his hand and somehow turning off all the droids in the room. She shivered with sudden cold. It was unlike anything she’d seen before, and she was both impressed and extremely uncomfortable. 

Master Obi-Wan laid his fingers on the Warden’s forehead, his eyes closing as he focused. He began to call out detention blocks to Cody and who was inside each. There were more prisoners than Ahsoka could have imagined. Eventually, Obi-Wan pulled his hand back with a sneer. “You _will_ tell no one of your failure. You _will not_ tell Dooku.” 

The Warden nodded. “I will tell no one.”

“You _will_ order the Separatist blockade to attack and destroy this base in three standard hours. You _will not_ leave when it happens.”

“I will stay,” the Warden’s eyes were out of focus, his tone flat and agreeable. “I will order the attack.”

_“Sleep.”_ Obi-Wan waved his hand vaguely, turning away as the Warden slumped back on his chair. He turned back to the rest of the squad. “The surveillance still needs to be wiped, just in case the droids _do_ have sense to not destroy their own facility, and then we can rescue the prisoners. There are more shuttles in the hangar that we can take. They may even let us past the blockade without too many questions.”

Ahsoka nodded, and let Obi-Wan get to work. The gold was beginning to fade from his eyes, the air warming back up around him. Soon enough, he looked just like he had before Anakin…

Ashoka grimaced. _Hopefully Skyguy was alright. He had to be fine. He had to be._

—

NABOO

Anakin hung from the wall of Dooku’s lair and waited for another bolt of electricity. 

Of course it _had_ been a trap after all, and Anakin had stupidly walked straight into it. He hadn’t sensed Dooku’s presence on the planet, and was disturbed that he hadn’t. The dark side wasn’t supposed to be invisible to him anymore, not even a little bit. 

Dooku’s shielding was both impressive and incredibly irritating.

“Vos, you’ll take point on this _interrogation.”_ Dooku’s smile was threatening. Anakin blinked in confusion and then frowned, looking around. _It couldn’t be Quinlan Vos. He wasn’t working for Dooku, was he?_ Dooku continued, his deep voice a threatening rumble. “Time to prove to me that you’re sincere in your interest in the cause.”

“Yes, Lord Tyranus.” Vos’s voice was unmistakable. Anakin felt a surge of alarm. He couldn’t believe that Master Vos was a traitor. _Did Obi-Wan know?_ “Of course,” Vos nodded. 

Anakin watched warily as Vos studied him for a long moment and then sighed, picking up the electrostaff. Anakin was aware of both Vos’s approach and Dooku’s eyes. He was not ready for the burst of pain as electricity coursed through his body from the point of contact. He screamed, his throat feeling raw already.

“Vos!” Anakin panted as the electrocution stopped. “What are you doing? Since when?”

“A recent change, actually,” Vos gave him a dirty look. “Which you are responsible for, Skywalker, so thank you for that!”

“What?” Anakin gasped in pain. Vos shocked him again for a long moment before pulling back. Anakin growled, “How? Why?”

“You made Obi-Wan into… somebody else.” Vos scowled, adjusting his grip on the staff. “He’s not my Obi-Wan anymore. You ruined him.”

_“Your Obi-Wan?_ Why do you even care? I thought you and Obi-Wan didn’t even get along.” Anakin asked breathily, and then screamed again when Vos pressed the electrostaff near his still-injured side. 

“Is that what he told you?” Vos laughed. “He had a life before you, you know. He will have a life after, too, if I have my way about it.”

“Now, Vos, we cannot kill him,” Dooku said indulgently. Anakin had almost forgotten that he was there. “You know my orders about that.”

Vos acknowledged the statement with a nod. “Yes, Master.”

“Master?” Anakin whispered, whimpering slightly as the electrostaff moved back in his direction. “What are you doing, Vos?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to...” Vos smiled sardonically. “Not know.” The electrostaff stopped a fraction of an inch above his skin. “Who shot you?”

“What?” Anakin gasped. _Why did he want to know that?_

“Who shot you?” Vos repeated, tapping the electrostaff against him in a rebuke. “Tell me who shot you, and I’ll stop.”

“Why do you care?” Anakin spat. “You should be grateful, apparently, you _traitor!”_

Vos shocked him again. “I want to know because Lord Tyranus wants to know, Skywalker.”

“I shot myself,” Anakin snarled. “Just felt like it, I guess. Sorry to disappoint.” Vos rolled his eyes, pressing and holding the staff against Anakin’s side. Anakin screamed. He felt like he was on the verge of passing out. His breath was shaky when Vos stopped. 

Vos’s voice was merciless. “Who shot you?”

“Senator Jar Jar.” Anakin panted, voice trembling. “Don’t blame him, he’s just clumsy.”

“Very amusing, Skywalker,” Dooku’s cold voice cut in. “Vos, can you find out using your alternate method? I’m growing weary of hearing his yapping.”

“Probably,” Vos nodded. He set the staff aside and moved away. “Do you have his lightsaber?”

Anakin watched with frustration as Dooku tossed over his most prized possession to Vos casually, like it was just a piece of junk. Vos caught it and went quiet, his eyes unfocusing for a moment. He looked sharply at Anakin, frowning in confusion.

“That doesn’t make sense.” Quinlan shook his head, moving back over to Anakin was hanging and tapping the lightsaber against his palm thoughtfully. “How were you _there,_ and then _back_ like that?”

“What, Vos?” Dooku’s voice was curious. “What do you mean?”

“He...” Quinlan frowned, looking intently into Anakin’s eyes. It almost looked like an apology. “It’s impossible. It doesn’t make sense.”

“What is impossible?” Dooku’s tone grew more forbidding. “I grow weary of your evasions, Vos.”

“I saw… I saw Obi-Wan.” Quinlan turned away from Anakin, looking uncomfortable. 

“What did Lord Mendax have to do with this?” Dooku sounded amused.

Anakin blinked at him, trying to cling to consciousness, trying to follow their discussion. His whole body ached and shook, and he was losing his fight. _Lord Mendax?_

“I… I don’t know what you mean.” Vos gave Dooku a questioning look. “Obi-Wan and Skywalker were fighting droids in a dark hallway when he got shot. Obi-Wan let go of Skywalker’s hand and Skywalker was suddenly on the street with a bunch of Gungans. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re saying Skywalker wasn’t on Naboo when he got shot, but was on Naboo immediately afterward?” Dooku sounded concerned. Anakin felt sick with dread, his hold on consciousness slipping. He hurt, so badly, everywhere. He was _so tired._

“If you know that Obi-Wan is not on Naboo then… _somehow…_ yes,” Quinlan said. “It was like transportation, but that’s impossible. I’m sorry, I don’t understand what I saw.”

“I think I might, unfortunately.” Dooku sounded pensive. “I need to check my library. This could be a complication. Tell no one of this, especially Mendax.”

“Yes, of course.” Quinlan dipped his head respectfully before raising an eyebrow. “Who… who is Mendax?”

Dooku laughed, and Anakin felt himself slide into the black, finally losing consciousness. 

—

CORUSCANT / THE NEGOTIATOR

Obi-Wan frowned at the holopad on his desk, and rotated the map. He and Ahsoka had received orders to immediately deploy with the 212th to reinforce Umbara without first returning to the Temple. Master Krell had already been sent with Master Tiin and the 501st while Anakin had been on Naboo, and the fight was not going well for them, it seemed. 

The casualty figures were _far_ too high for Obi-Wan’s liking.

Anakin, of course, was not joining Obi-Wan or the 501st. Once he’d been freed from Dooku’s lair at the expense of Republic custody of General Grievous, he had been ordered to return and remain on Coruscant. The Council had _happily_ granted Palpatine’s request for Anakin to serve as the Chancellor's personal security escort due to some _new and different_ threats on his life.

Darth Sidious wasn’t letting Obi-Wan anywhere near Anakin, and Obi-Wan wanted very badly to kill him for that. He took a steadying breath and tried to refocus on Umbara, but it wasn’t working. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Anakin’s hurt face.

His comlink flashed, and Obi-Wan frowned at the unfamiliar comcode before putting it through. “Kenobi.” 

“Hey, man,” Quinlan said, voice oddly casual. “How’s it going?”

Obi-Wan frowned at him. “I’m working, Vos. What do you need? The Council has declared you Missing In Action.”

Quinlan sighed. “I know they have. I’m on Serenno now, and Dooku has accepted me as an acolyte. This is the first moment I’ve had to communicate, sorry about that.”

Obi-Wan felt a surge of excitement. “Good work! That was fast.”

“Yes, the only problem was what I had to do in order to earn his trust, Obi-Wan. I’d…” He grimaced apologetically. “I’d played up my anger at your involvement with Skywalker as one of the main reasons I’d left the Order.” Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, almost amused. His expression fell when Quinlan looked grim. “Dooku made me torture Skywalker, Obi-Wan.”

“What?” All humor left Obi-Wan’s voice, and his eyes sharpened on Quinlan’s hazy, blue face. He looked vaguely apologetic. Obi-Wan’s anger spiked dramatically, and he hissed, “What did you do?”

“My best to make it not as bad,” Quinlan said defensively, raising his hands. “I didn’t have a choice, Obi-Wan. He would have killed me if I didn’t do it, and you know as well as I do that he was going to torture Skywalker anyway.”

Obi-Wan waved a hand in the air irritably. _He knew and didn’t care. He needed to check on Anakin. Why hadn’t Anakin commed?_ Obi-Wan shook his head and tried to rush through the rest of the conversation, “Have you learned anything of value from Dooku yet?”

Quinlan shrugged. “My psychometry has given me some leads, but nothing concrete. I know you need hard evidence for this to work, Obi-Wan. I totally do believe you about Sidious now, though. He’s been here before and touched many things, and I recognized his voice.”

“Good, I was hoping your retrocognition would at least provide some direction—” Obi-Wan broke off when the Force bloomed with rage. He turned and saw Anakin standing about five feet away and looking at him, his expression betrayed. 

“You’re talking to Vos?”

“I...” Obi-Wan blinked at him for a moment, and then shot the hologram a dark look and turned it off. “I was, yes.”

“Why?” Anakin sounded hurt, but it shifted almost immediately into fury. He stepped closer to Obi-Wan, glaring at him. “He works for Dooku! He _tortured_ me.”

“I know… I know he did,” Obi-Wan said appeasingly, looking up concerned as Anakin drew nearer. He reached up to touch his bruised face and Anakin moved his head back. Obi-Wan dropped his hand with a sigh, looking away. “I’m so sorry, Anakin. I didn’t expect that you would be caught, let alone that’s what he would ask Vos to do to prove his loyalty. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“And yet,” Anakin sneered, putting his hands on his hips and wincing slightly. Obi-Wan felt a pang in his chest, he _hated_ seeing Anakin hurt. Anakin’s tone was sharp. “I _was_ caught, and he _tortured me_. I don’t care if you meant it to happen, I _still got tortured,_ Obi-Wan.”

“Dooku would have tortured you anyway, even if Vos wasn’t there!” Obi-Wan said earnestly, trying to look him in the eyes, make him understand. “I’m… I’m really, truly, _extremely_ sorry that it was Quinlan, Anakin. He said he tried to make it better, I hope he really did.”

“It was still pretty bad!” Anakin looked angry and suspicious. He mimicked Obi-Wan’s voice, repeating _“Quinlan”_ in a mocking voice and glowered. “Are you still sleeping with him too? He talked about you in a pretty possessive way.”

“What?” Obi-Wan’s stomach dropped. He’d assumed that Anakin was jealous and resentful of their forced separation, but never in a million years would Obi-Wan have expected him to actually accuse him of being unfaithful. “What in the Force are you talking about? I haven’t slept with anyone else in years and years, Anakin. You’re the only person I want. You _always_ have been.”

Anakin shrugged resentfully, looking down. “Did _Quinlan_ even tell you that he told Dooku about our bond?”

“He didn’t have a chance to tell me, Padawan. Dooku knows?” Obi-Wan’s tone grew dangerous. “What exactly does he know?”

Anakin crossed his arms, lip curling. “Thanks to Vos’s _psychometric bantha poodoo_ , Dooku knows I got shot where you were, and that I was on Naboo immediately after. Vos didn’t even try to lie for you, if he really is working for you—he’s not doing a very good job! He told Dooku right away!”

_“Kriff,”_ Obi-Wan swore under his breath and turned away, beginning to pace. Anakin watched his progress with narrowed eyes.

“Are you Darth Mendax?” The question came out of nowhere.

“What?” Obi-Wan looked sharply over his shoulder, focusing intently on Anakin’s face. He could almost hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. “Why do you say that?”

“Something Dooku said,” Anakin spat, his cheeks flushing red with anger. “So it’s true, you _are_ a named Sith.”

Obi-Wan shook his head fiercely, “Not by choice, Anakin. Dooku did that all on his own.”

“So you are working with him!” Anakin pointed at him furiously, his voice growing louder and louder. “Dooku trusts you enough to make you a full Sith! Are you two plotting a Sith Empire together? _Without me?”_ Anakin’s eyes were beginning to burn gold, and Obi-Wan felt the ground beneath his feet was crumbling. Anakin sounded _so angry_. “I thought we were trying to stop a Sith Empire! The Chancellor and Padmé are right, you really are a traitor!”

“Anakin, stop.” Obi-Wan’s voice came out extremely sharp. He met Anakin’s eyes, willing him to understand—but forcefully keeping himself from mind tricking him. Obi-Wan tried desperately to convince him instead. “You _know_ that Darth Sidious is the one trying to make an Empire, not me. Dooku is trying to kill him too. We have to kill Sidious somehow! I need Dooku’s help to do it.”

Anakin shook his head, his eyes shining. “Are you really allies, then? Did you really let Dooku go on Florrum?”

“I did not,” Obi-Wan said repressively. “I am not a _traitor_ , Anakin.”

“You are!” Anakin yelled, putting his hands on his head, gripping his hair in frustration before letting go, gesturing with both hands in Obi-Wan’s face. “You’re working with Dooku to bring down the Republic! This is why you didn’t want me to kill him. _You’re allies!_ The Chancellor warned me but I didn’t believe him!”

Obi-Wan’s face was growing flushed, and he knew that his own eyes were doubtlessly turning gold too as his shielding failed. His voice was becoming cold, his heart racing. “The Chancellor has _no right_ to talk about an alliance with Dooku!”

Anakin turned, refusing to even look at him. “What do you mean?”

“Palpatine’s the one really collaborating with Dooku, not me!” Obi-Wan growled, moving closer to Anakin, speaking louder as he lost control. “He has been the whole time! They’re running this entire war together!” Obi-Wan couldn’t stop his mouth. “He’s the Force damned Sith Master, Anakin! I am trying to kill _both_ of them! I am not the traitor, _Palpatine_ is.”

—

“You… you _knew?”_ Anakin felt numb, his mind was struggling to grasp the scope and implications of the information. _He couldn’t believe it._ “You _knew_ who the Sith Master was and you didn’t tell me?” He glared, fists clenching. “You just sent me off to have tea with him? How long have you known? The whole time?”

“No,” Obi-Wan shook his head once. “Not _that_ long, and besides—I’ve never _once_ been able to stop you from seeing him, and you tell him everything!” Obi-Wan’s voice rose defensively. “I couldn’t have you tell him that I know. He would have killed _all the Jedi,_ Anakin, if he found out I know!”

“I wouldn’t have told him!” Anakin felt extremely insulted. “You never trust me! I could’ve kept the secret if you had explained!”

“No, you could not!” Obi-Wan threw his hands in the air, frustrated. “Darth Sidious would have gotten it out of you somehow! You are too easy to manipulate, Anakin.”

Anakin’s eyes flashed, and he took a step closer. “Is that what you’ve been doing, _Master?_ This whole time? Manipulating me?”

“No, Anakin!” Obi-Wan sounded aghast. “That’s not at all what I meant!”

“It’s what you said! Everything makes sense now, _Darth Mendax.”_ Anakin began to pace, speaking quickly. “You really _are_ a traitor, and you’re trying to take power for yourself. You’re trying to bring down the Republic just for more power! Padmé said so, and I didn’t believe her, but she was right!”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked like a whip. “The Chancellor has staged the entire war! He is the traitor, _he_ is trying to take power. I’m trying to end the war! I’m trying to stop him!”

Anakin laughed darkly, feeling flush with emotion. He felt like the air around him was crackling. “I don’t _care_ about him, Obi-Wan, I care that _you lied to me!_ You don’t trust me! You used me!” He sneered. “I’m _glad_ the Chancellor recalled me to Coruscant, away from _you._ At least he respects me! He respects my power!” 

“No, he doesn’t!” Obi-Wan said fiercely. “Anakin, there’s more I need to tell you, more you need to know before you—”

“No!” Anakin instinctively raised a hand, cutting off Obi-Wan’s speech. “I’m done listening to you.” Obi-Wan choked, raising his hands to his throat. Anakin felt a surge of dark satisfaction, seeing him struggle. The moment stretched out, and Obi-Wan didn’t fight him, didn’t protect himself. Anakin’s heart was thudding in his chest, his hands shaking. Obi-Wan’s eyes were so wide. _He looked so sorry._

Anakin finally let Obi-Wan go, and Obi-Wan gasped shakily. “A-Anakin, please, I need to—”

“I don’t care.” Anakin cut him off, and pulled himself almost entirely into the Force. He withdrew as far as he could, making himself small, holding himself contained. He tried to quiet his heavy breathing, hold still his shaking hands, and become as quiet as possible. 

He tried to make it so Obi-Wan wouldn’t notice him at all.

“No!” Obi-Wan’s eyes were fixed on where he was standing. Anakin tried moving to the left, and Obi-Wan didn’t track the movement. Anakin smiled with satisfaction, turning and walking out of the room, away from the sound of Obi-Wan’s voice. “Anakin, please stop that, I need to tell you—”

Anakin was so angry, angrier than killing the Tuskens, angrier than fighting Dooku, angrier than fighting Ventress, angrier than _helping_ Obi-Wan mind trick Jabba. 

Obi-Wan didn’t _trust_ him, didn’t _respect_ him. 

Obi-Wan really didn’t _love_ him. 

Obi-Wan had _lied_ to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh _noooooo._ Don’t do the dark side, kids! Not even once! 
> 
> Where is rock bottom, you ask? Not here! Next chapter is going to be _fun_ to write, and will be up within a week! Hope you are all still enjoying the way down :)


	16. Ruin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more step towards the edge—

SERENNO

20BBY

Quinlan Vos watched Obi-Wan glare and turn off their transmission with a thrill of trepidation. It was probably _very_ bad that Skywalker had somehow managed to interrupt his check-in with Obi-Wan. Quinlan had a bad feeling about it, as well as a fair amount of confusion. 

He sat back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of all the things he knew. _Skywalker was half a galaxy away from Obi-Wan. How did they even do that?_

Quinlan had so far spent his time on Serenno watching Dooku alternate between disappearing into his library for hours to research that very question and emerging to savagely destroy Quinlan with his lightsaber under the pretense of ‘training.’ 

It was _not_ the most fun Quinlan had ever had.

Something about the bond was making Dooku extremely moody, and Quinlan did not much appreciate being the only sentient around to handle the fallout. _What happened to that other acolyte? The bald woman?_ Quinlan figured he would be having a lot more fun if she were still around. 

He flipped over to monitor the feed from the tiny probe droid that he’d released into Dooku’s office, checking again to make sure that there had been no movement. His hope was that Dooku’s current mood would prove to be distracting enough that Dooku wouldn’t notice that his room had been bugged.

It was a narrow possibility to stake his life on, but for _some reason_ Quinlan just _knew_ that getting a recording of a conversation between Dooku and Palpatine was more important than his own safety. He _had to do this_. There was nobody else who could.

Obi-Wan was relying on _him_. 

His brows rose when he saw Dooku stride swiftly into the office, stopping in front of his desk and muttering to himself indistinctly as he manipulated the holotransmitter. Quinlan made sure that he was recording, just in case, and sat back hopefully. 

He sucked in a breath when Darth Sidious appeared opposite Dooku, face hidden in shadow. Dooku immediately knelt, dipping his head. Quinlan couldn’t quite keep the look of contempt off his face while watching the feed. It was somehow both satisfying and pathetic to see someone as arrogant as Dooku humiliate himself _that much_.

“Master...” Dooku began, his tone apologetic. “I have grave news.”

—

THE NEGOTIATOR

“Anakin, please _stop_ that, I need to tell you about your _mother_. Anakin? Are you listening? Are you still even here...” Obi-Wan’s voice trailed off as he felt the distance in the bond growing, even as Anakin’s anger continued to swell. 

Obi-Wan knew implicitly that Anakin _couldn’t_ or _wouldn’t_ hear him anymore, and was probably already on his way to the Chancellor’s office to confront Sidious and demand answers from him instead. 

_Kriff._

Obi-Wan ran his hands down his face, pressing hard on his eyes in frustration, closer to crying than he’d been in many years. He considered the fact that this was possibly the _worst_ way that interaction could have gone, and it was his own emotions that had interfered _again_ , ruined things _again_. 

_Why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut?_

Anakin now knew the identity of the Sith Master, and Darth Sidious would very soon learn that Obi-Wan knew. This was a _worst case scenario_ that Obi-Wan had only ever considered tentatively, reluctantly. He had never assumed he would lose control enough to tell his secrets in such a haphazard and partial way, but he should have known better.

A wave of self loathing almost overwhelmed him, and he looked at the ceiling and tried to calm his breathing. He couldn’t handle this alone. Trying to handle it alone hadn’t worked. It had made everything worse.

Obi-Wan needed _help._

—

CORUSCANT

Anakin clenched and unclenched his fists, trying hard to calm down and failing almost entirely. He paced, waiting several tense minutes until he was _sure_ that the bond had failed, and then marched back into his room. There was a travel bag under his bed, and he pulled it out and began throwing everything of sentimental value from his room inside. 

There was no point in staying. 

Being a Jedi held no appeal to him whatsoever, not when Obi-Wan was lying to him and manipulating him, Ahsoka had been taken away, the 501st was under some other Jedi’s command, the war itself was just an awful joke anyway, the other Jedi hated him and disrespected him _constantly_ , and _Obi-Wan…._

_Had Obi-Wan ever really cared about him?_

Anakin almost felt sick. All those months of being unsure—he’d been _right_ to be worried. It was like everything he thought he’d known about Obi-Wan was a _lie_ , carefully crafted to make sure Anakin behaved himself in a certain way, like a _tool_ not a _partner_. 

Obi-Wan... _Darth Mendax..._ had _lied_ to make sure that Anakin stayed unaware of the true danger around him! Anakin was positive that he should’ve been told, or at least it certainly felt like a massive _betrayal_ that he hadn’t been. 

How long had Mendax even been working with Dooku? Since Florrum? Before that? Since the first battle of Geonosis? _That was…_ Anakin swallowed. That was before he had even _asked_ Mendax to take care of him. Mendax must’ve been lying to Anakin and manipulating him _the whole time_. 

Anakin pulled a podracing poster off his wall roughly and shoved it into his bag on top of his spare prosthetics. The part that hurt him the most was looking back at all the times he had _welcomed_ Mendax into his mind, and had let him see and take his darkness—it had felt so intimate, and he had been so _vulnerable_. 

Anakin had been _fooled_ into feeling complete acceptance, blind trust—but in reality all of his secrets were just being exposed and insecurities displayed for Mendax to see and _manipulate_. He’d thought for some stupid reason that Mendax was just as open with him in return, just as vulnerable, but he’d been such an _idiot_. 

The exchange was _never_ two-way. Anakin had _never_ taken in any of Mendax’s darkness, _never_ saw behind his mask, _never_ really knew his heart at all. Everything about those moments in the bond—moments that had been so essential to Anakin, so _precious_ —had been a _lie._

Mendax was always much more powerful with the mental arts, so much so that even Yoda and Windu couldn’t read him. How had Anakin _possibly_ deluded himself into thinking that he knew Mendax at all? How could he have convinced himself that he was seeing _the real, genuine Obi-Wan,_ not just another façade designed to lure him in and keep him pacified and _tricked?_

Sharing his darkness hadn’t made Anakin stronger and more stable, like he’d thought, but must have just made it easier for Mendax to read and manipulate him! All Anakin’s darkness, all his _power_ —he’d let it be _taken_ away! Anakin had let himself be made _weaker,_ so that Mendax could be _stronger_ , and had been _grateful_ for the _privilege!_

Every time Anakin had thought Mendax was keeping him _protected_ , keeping him _safe_ , keeping him _strong_ —he was keeping him _weak_ , keeping him _dependent_ , keeping him a _slave!_

Anakin threw the strap of the bag over his shoulder. He looked one more time around his barely furnished rooms, glaring at Ahsoka’s empty bedroom and stalking out. 

He had some questions for the Chancellor. Even if he didn’t like the answers, Anakin knew there was no way he was coming back to the Jedi. 

He was done.

—

THE NEGOTIATOR

Ahsoka frowned at her comlink, blinking awake slowly. It was really late, and she didn’t think there were any pressing reasons that anyone would need her—they were still in hyperspace on the way to Umbara. She was _sure_ that she’d have plenty of rack time. 

She needed _time_ to process everything, make _sense_ of everything...

She was still fastening her gauntlets when she entered the almost empty briefing room, repressing a yawn. Ahsoka really was _very_ tired. She stood and waited to be noticed, but Obi-Wan was staring intently down at a data pad, his brow furrowed. “What’s going on, Master Kenobi?” 

Her voice made him jump, and Obi-Wan looked up sharply. Ahsoka felt a surge of dread, and narrowly resisted the urge to step backwards—his eyes were shining gold again. She nervously broke eye contact, looking away and feeling a surge of relief when she noticed Cody sitting there too, but seeing his bleak expression felt like another kick in the stomach. 

She looked back at Obi-Wan, concerned. “What happened?” 

“I...” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head and looking stricken. His normally smooth voice was crackling with emotion. “I’ve lost Anakin to Darth Sidious, Ahsoka.”

“What?” Ahsoka suddenly felt wide awake, her tone rising sharply. She squared her shoulders and glared, hands balling into fists. “What do you mean you _lost him?”_

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and took a deep, steadying breath. It looked difficult. His emotions were like a storm in the Force around him, and it was making Ahsoka feel seasick. Obi-Wan’s voice was tight. “I know that Anakin’s fallen, and Plo just sent me a message that Anakin was seen leaving the Temple with a packed bag. I fear he’s gone to serve the Sith Master, Darth Sidious.”

Ahsoka looked at Cody again, seeking reassurance, and felt her stomach fall even farther when he didn’t meet her eyes. Cody looked extremely upset—she’d never seen him this upset before. His barely contained emotions made her feel afraid. She looked back at Obi-Wan with growing alarm. “What _happened?!”_

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan said his name weakly, like the syllables hurt coming off his tongue. “Anakin discovered that I am a full Sith and that I have known the identity of the Sith Master but didn’t tell him. He felt… he _was…_ betrayed by my silence, and left.” 

Ahsoka felt frozen. She looked at him blankly, her mouth hanging open, trying to understand, before shaking her head angrily, needing him to explain further. “Why? Why didn’t you…”

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably and continued. “I hadn’t told him before for the same reasons I’d always stopped him from telling you about the Sith at all.” He sounded regretful and resigned. “I’m… I’m sorry, Ahsoka. I was trying to keep everyone _safe_ by keeping secrets, but... it didn’t work. I think it made everything so much worse.”

“Secrets?” Ashoka finally sat down slowly opposite Obi-Wan at the briefing table, studying him warily. “What do you mean by secrets?”

Obi-Wan looked away, staring at the far wall. His words came out fast and ashamed. “The war… the entire war was _manufactured_ by the Sith to destroy the Republic from the inside and out, and eliminate the Jedi Order. I’m sorry to tell you that the Sith are leading both sides, and always have been.”

Ahsoka tilted her head to the side, frowning. “I figured that Dooku is a Sith. Who do you mean for the Republic? Who’s the Sith? Other than _you_ , I mean...” She glanced again at Cody, who was still looking grim, his lips pressed together into a thin line. 

Obi-Wan pulled something out of the pouch on his belt. It looked like a small black pyramid. Ahsoka’s eyes widened and she instinctively drew back. “Is that a...”

“Sith holocron, yes,” Obi-Wan nodded and set it down on the table crisply. “It is. I won’t activate him unless you ask me to, but he can confirm what Dooku told me on Florrum, which is that Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Master.”

“What?” Her gaze snapped from the holocron back to Obi-Wan’s face. He looked deadly serious. She laughed nervously. “You _must_ be kidding.” Obi-Wan shook his head apologetically, and Ahsoka gasped. “But he _can’t_ be!”

“I’m sorry, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan sounded _extremely_ sorry, and it made her uncomfortable. “The Republic has been under direct control by the Sith for more than a decade.” Obi-Wan drummed his fingers on the table anxiously. “The Council has so far failed to notice that they’ve been taking orders from the Sith Master, serving as Generals for his slave army.” He looked apologetically at Cody, who gave him a stony look in return.

“Why haven’t you told anyone before?” Ahsoka asked, desperately trying to understand. “How could you let it go on for so long?”

Obi-Wan looked guilty, and he shot Cody another apologetic look. “At any time, Palpatine could order the clones to kill all the Jedi, and they would be powerless to resist his command. Each had a biological control chip implanted in their brains early in fetal development.” Cody’s nostrils flared and Ahsoka watched his fists tighten and release with deliberate calmness. She felt sick.

Obi-Wan must have already told Cody about the chips before she’d got here. She wasn’t at all mad about that—it was hard to be properly angry, when Obi-Wan sounded so devastated. He sounded close to broken. “I have been doing _everything_ I could to avoid triggering a massacre, for the sake of both the Jedi _and_ the _Vode_.”  He spoke like he was trying to convince himself, too. 

“I…” Ahsoka felt speechless, eyes flicking to still-silent Cody and back. “Why are you telling us now?”

Obi-Wan frowned. “Because the damage has already been done, Ahsoka. Anakin knows about Palpatine, and Palpatine will know that his cover has been exposed. There’s no harm in telling you now.”

“No harm,” Ahsoka gave him a dark look, her tone a sullen grumble. “No help, either! What can I even do? _Nothing!_ It’s too late for anything, isn’t it? What are you doing to stop it? Why haven’t you stopped it? Why did you _let Anakin go?!”_ Her questions became more and more barbed until she was pointing an accusatory finger at Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan looked ashamed. “Do you want to go back to the Temple, back to Coruscant? Away from… away from me?” Obi-Wan still managed to sound earnest and kind. _Not at all like she thought a lying dark sider would sound…_

Ahsoka looked at him for a long moment before she shook her head decisively. “No, I don’t want to go back.” Obi-Wan’s head snapped back slightly with surprise, and she growled, voice full of frustration. “You _just_ said Anakin wouldn’t be there! I don’t want to follow him to the Sith… a new and _different_ Sith I _guess_...” She glared at him. “And I don’t want to go to the _Council_ either, since—” Obi-Wan looked concerned and opened his mouth, but Ahsoka’s pitch and volume rose, cutting him off from speaking, “—they left me for dead! Without you and Skyguy, I would probably have been hunted down on Trandosha and stuffed!”

“You give yourself far too little credit, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan spoke gently, looking at her with a serious expression. “You are a cunning warrior and a brave Jedi. You would have found a way to survive, I honestly believe that.”

“Well… thank you,” Ahsoka nodded, feeling slightly warm. She stared intently at the table. “I still don’t want to go back to the Temple if Anakin’s not there. I don’t want to see Master Yoda. I want to stay here, with you and the men.” She glanced at Cody for validation, and he gave her a small, tight smile.

“Really?” Obi-Wan sounded almost vulnerable. Ahsoka’s eyes snapped back to his face in surprise at his tone. “You want to stay? I… I could really use your help. I don’t… I don’t know if I can control it. The dark side, I mean. It’s… I really do need your help.” He trailed off, uncharacteristically inarticulate.

Ahsoka nodded at him reassuringly. “I will make sure you don’t go _all the way_ crazy, Master Kenobi.” She smiled tentatively, and their tenuous teaching bond, which she’d assumed had always existed as a function of the strength of her bond with Anakin, felt a surge of power. Obi-Wan looked at her hopefully, and they began to connect directly, without Anakin as an intermediary. 

The idea managed to cross the barrier between their minds, and she grimaced. “We’ll get him back, Master Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka swore ardently. “Darth Sidious _cannot_ have him forever. We will get him back. He wants to be with us. I know he does.”

“He… He doesn’t. He won’t.” Obi-Wan sounded extremely sad. “There’s more you don’t know about Anakin and me, Ahsoka. More that I need to tell you.”

Ahsoka tilted her head to the side, waiting. 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and began to explain.

—

Commander Tano gave General Kenobi an _extremely_ unimpressed look, and Cody almost felt the inappropriate urge to smile despite the serious nature of the conversation. Tano sounded beyond frustrated. “You should have told him about his mom. You could have apologized. You didn’t know, and couldn’t have known!” 

“I...” Kenobi’s shoulders slumped. “Probably, yes. It never seemed like the right time. I didn’t know how to tell him. I’m not… I’m not perfect, Ahsoka. I was afraid of what would happen if he knew. I was worried he would…” His voice dropped shamefully. “I was worried he would leave. I didn’t want him to go.”

“Obviously,” she sneered at him, looking sideways at Cody for a long moment before looking back. “You really think that Anakin will not forgive you for it? You don’t think he’ll come back?”

Kenobi shook his head sadly. 

Cody looked away from them both, staring blankly at the far wall. He was still trying to assimilate the news that he and the rest of his brothers had been commissioned by Dooku, not the Jedi, and that they all contained a switch that could override self-control. It was almost too big to understand, too awful. 

It felt as if the whole world was teetering on the edge of exploding. 

He looked over at the General, noting absently the dark circles under his golden eyes. It was probably for the best that Cody thought that he didn’t know or care enough about the Force to be properly concerned about what his eyes meant. The General was the General, he’d never let them down before.

“I don’t know if Anakin will ever really forgive me.” Kenobi eventually broke the silence, his tone resigned. “He thought that he _loved_ me. He will _hate_ me for a very long time.”

Cody opened his mouth to interrupt, when Kenobi’s comlink went off. The General frowned at the comcode and connected it—Vos appeared in the holo, looking harried and speaking rapidly. “I have an urgent message—Dooku is _dead_. Sidious _killed_ him.”

There was a long moment of silence. Cody felt like his ears were ringing. He stared incredulously at the holo.

“Repeat that, Vos?” Kenobi’s voice was strained. 

“Sidious killed Dooku.” Every word was emphasized, and Vos looked extremely nervous. “I have the footage, I can’t...” Vos shook his head. “I can’t believe he didn’t notice the bug. Dooku had been researching something about your bond with Skywalker in his library, and it had upset him a lot, so I planted a small probe droid in his office. You know, I was trying to get proof they were collaborating... I never expected...”

“Do you have the recording, Quin?” Kenobi’s voice was gentle but firm. “Can you give it to us?”

“Yes, of course. Sending it over now.” Vos nodded decisively. “I’m in the process of getting off this planet. _Now.”_

“Good,” Kenobi gave him an encouraging smile. “If you want to meet us on Umbara, you can ride out the storm with us here.”

“I… I think I will do that.” Vos squared his shoulders. “I think the war is about to end early, Obi-Wan. End _badly_. Watch the recording, and I will see you soon.” The holo disappeared and Cody made eye contact with Kenobi, and raised an eyebrow.

“Might as well play it,” Kenobi muttered. “See what got Dooku killed.”

“Yes, sir,” Cody agreed, his tone supportive. He tried to ignore the hot leaping feeling in his stomach. _Dooku was dead! Did that really mean that the war was almost over?_

Kenobi began the holorecording, looking extremely wary. 

“Master...” Dooku’s deep, resonant voice filled the briefing room. “I have grave news.” His flickering blue form was kneeling, looking down at the ground respectfully. “I believe that Obi-Wan Kenobi may be the true Sith’ari.”

“ _Kriff!_ ” The General stood up and began pacing, his eyes fixed on the holo. 

Cody tracked his progress with his eyes for a moment before looking back at Dooku and the hooded figure of the other Sith. Sidious’s voice came out low and menacing. “What foolishness is this?”

Dooku shook his head slightly. “I found a reference in my library and conferred with many holocrons about what I learned on Naboo. Obi-Wan and the Midichlor _must_ be a dyad in the Force. It’s the only explanation. They share a connection that spans across space and time, allowing Skywalker to travel from Lola Sayu to Naboo instantaneously.”

Sidious hummed thoughtfully. “While that is certainly _concerning_ news, I fail to see the relevance to the prophecy.”

Dooku shook his head, eyes still locked to the floor. “The amount of power in the dark side that he has to be able to channel in order to anchor his bond with Skywalker… It suggests that he is the Sith’ari. I do not report this from mere idle concern, Master.” Dooku took a deep breath, as if bracing for the worst. “He may be able to take control of the clones.”

“What?” Sidious’s tone was glacial, and Cody felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He looked sharply over at Kenobi, who was looking aghast at the recording.

“Back when I ordered the clones”—Cody exhaled sharply. It was one thing to know intellectually, another thing to hear it confessed. This _couldn’t be happening.—_ “I included the plans for the control chips as ordered, but at the suggestion of Darth Solon made one alteration.” 

Dooku sounded very worried, and it cheered Cody up to keep in mind that this was a conversation that led to Dooku’s _death_. Dooku would _die_ … was already _dead_. 

Sidious’s tone foretold the danger. “You made unauthorized changes? Unapproved alterations?” His anger grew in strength, and Dooku’s posture cringed defensively. “You changed the chips and didn’t tell me?”

“Yes, Master.”

Sidious hissed at him. “What did you do?” 

Dooku swallowed and looked up. “I made them loyal first to the Sith’ari.”

“Oh, _very clever,_ my unbelievably arrogant and foolish Apprentice.” Sidious’s tone was fervent and mocking. “You had delusions of an army for yourself, is that it?” Dooku nodded once and Sidious snarled, “As a result, Master Kenobi may be able to override my control of the clones? He may be able to stop the execution of my plans?”

Dooku sounded desperate. “Yes, Master.”

“And he knows this?” Sidious’s teeth were bared in a snarl.

“I don’t know for certain, Master.” Dooku groveled. “You _must_ trigger Order 66, as soon as possible! Before Obi-Wan figures out how to stop it! The Jedi _must_ be eliminated! _Now!_ Before it is too late! We will never have this opportunity again!”

There was a long pause, and Cody’s eyes raked over the General’s pale face. Kenobi’s eyes were fixed on the shadowy form of the Sith, his breathing shallow and rapid. He looked on the verge of panicking. 

The Chancellor’s cruel voice grew suddenly deliberative, “Tell me… From your _research_ , if Kenobi dies, would Skywalker wield all of the power latent in the dyad?”

Dooku answered quickly, eager to please his Master. “Either that or Skywalker dies too.”

Palpatine sounded satisfied. “It may well be worth the risk. Kenobi is too dangerous to live. He _will_ die soon, but...” He raised a hand. “You will die _first_.”

“What? Master, no, please! I told you, I warned you… _no_...” Palpatine’s fingers pinched closed and Dooku began to choke. Palpatine was _choking him to death from across the galaxy._ Cody shuddered. He watched numbly as Dooku was lifted into the air by the invisible hold on his neck, hanging and struggling limply for a moment before abruptly Palpatine twisted his wrist, snapping Dooku’s neck. 

Dooku dropped to the ground. _Dead._

The holo of Palpatine turned, and smiled wolfishly. The last thing audible before the transmission dropped was a low, satisfied murmur, “Anakin, my boy—”

Commander Tano whimpered, and Cody looked at her sharply. He rested a hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze before looking back at the haunted expression on Kenobi’s face. 

_They were running out of time._

—

CORUSCANT

Anakin strode swiftly through the doors into the Chancellor’s office just in time to see Count Dooku being choked to death over holo. He watched numbly as Palpatine’s hand jerked and Dooku’s neck snapped—his head turning with a sharp, sickening crunch before his body fell limp to the floor. Dooku did not move and looked dead to Anakin’s critical eye. 

_Good_. _I’m glad. I wish I’d killed him, but I’m sure glad he’s dead_. Anakin’s heart seemed to burn with pleasure the longer he looked at Dooku’s corpse. 

“Anakin, my boy.” Palpatine’s… _Darth_ _Sidious’s_... tone was oily as he ended the transmission, Dooku’s broken body disappearing from sight. Anakin looked up at him. “What remarkable timing you have.”

“So he _wasn’t_ lying. You _are_ the Sith Master.” Anakin dropped his bag and sat heavily in one of the visitor’s chairs across from the Chancellor’s desk, his arms crossed and brow furrowed forbiddingly. 

Sidious smiled slowly, sitting opposite Anakin and steepling his fingers thoughtfully. His voice was less kindly, more chilling than Anakin had ever heard it before. “That is correct.”

Anakin scowled with frustration. “You’ve been lying to me,” he said slowly and emphatically. “My entire life!”

“Yes,” Sidious nodded almost regretfully. “I’m sorry to say that it’s been necessary, Anakin.”

“Why?” Anakin said suspiciously. He resisted the urge to kick the Chancellor’s metal desk. “Why is it _necessary_ for everyone to _lie_ to me?”

“The Jedi, my boy,” Sidious shook his head regretfully. “I had to protect myself and the Republic from their designs. They’ve always treated you like their little spy, didn’t you know?” Anakin shook his head, and Sidious sneered. “I’m sure you always had to give full accountings of all our time together to Master Kenobi.”

The name made Anakin’s jaw clench. “You mean Darth Mendax?” 

Sidious sat forward on his chair, his eyes suddenly glowing like coals in the low light. “What did you say?” His voice came out a chilled, sibilant hiss.

Anakin rolled his eyes, feeling reckless in his anger. “Darth Mendax, Dark Lord of the Sith, my old Master, I believe you know him?”

Sidious looked livid. “He’s Named?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s a nice little present that Dooku left for you,” Anakin laughed and sneered slightly. “I thought you were supposed to be _incredibly_ powerful, how could you not even notice he’d fallen? Is Mendax more powerful than you?”

“Enough,” Sidious said, his tone an icy threat. It was almost exactly and somehow nothing like Mendax’s angriest tone. Anakin felt a moment of gratitude that his arousal seemed to be an Mendax-specific phenomenon, before he felt even angrier when he remembered just how much he’d liked it. Sidious glared at him. “You _will_ behave yourself. I _was_ aware he was much less light than he appeared to others, especially recently. I underestimated the situation only by degrees.”

Anakin nodded absently and gestured around the empty room, trying to think of anything but _Darth Mendax._ “This whole war was staged for you to take over, then? You’d been working with Dooku since the beginning?”

“Yes,” Sidious said, sitting back and still looking furious. “Dooku played his part, but he was always a _temporary_ Apprentice.” His eyes flicked over Anakin, down to his bag, and back to his face, and his mood seemed to improve immensely. “Until the Midichlor came of age, of course.”

“Midichlor?” Anakin said the word slowly, it felt foreign on his tongue. He had no idea what that meant.

Sidious’s voice filled with satisfaction. “You mean Master Kenobi… _Darth Mendax..._ never told you what you are? He must surely have known… especially if, as I suspected, he was listening to and learning from the missing holocron of Darth Solon.”

Anakin frowned, his stomach dropping. _More secrets? More lies?_ “He did talk to that stupid holocron a lot, and yet I have no idea what you’re talking about, Chancellor.”

“Please, Anakin.” Sidious’s tone was smooth and inviting. “Do feel free to call me ‘Master.’ That is why you are here, is it not?”

Anakin scowled at him. “That’s not why I’m here. I just want to know the truth. ” 

Sidious raised an eyebrow and seemed amused. “Then the truth you shall have, my boy. The truth you shall have.” His eyes gleamed. “Did your mother ever discuss your father, Anakin?”

Anakin felt like he’d been slapped. “What does my mother have to do with anything?”

“Everything,” Sidious corrected. “She has to do with _everything.”_

—

THE NEGOTIATOR

“General…” Cody’s voice was tentative, and Obi-Wan shook his head, blinking and trying to refocus on the moment. His mind wouldn’t stop replaying the sound of Sidious greeting Anakin. He sat up straighter, looking over at Cody and smiling at him as encouragingly as possible. Cody met his gaze, eyes hopeful. “Could you use your powers to free the _Vode_ from the chips?”

“Absolutely, I've always planned to, yes.” Obi-Wan nodded vigorously, looking at him seriously and taking a deep breath. Cody’s request was grounding—it gave Obi-Wan something to hold on to, something to help him pull himself together. Obi-Wan was _the only one_ who could solve the problem, so solve the problem _he must._

“Good, sir,” Cody nodded crisply. “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan gave him a small smile. “Let me try with you first, here, now. I just need to ask Solon how.” He felt eager, but tentative, giving the holocron a preemptive glare. _Solon better cooperate._

Obi-Wan had never received sufficient information to fix the problem from Solon before, and he hadn’t wanted to do too much personal experimentation and draw attention to himself—but things were different now. Surely, Solon would be more helpful now. 

Obi-Wan looked anxiously at Ahsoka, tipping his head at the pyramid. She wrinkled her nose and nodded permission, so he waved his hand, calling on the dark side of the Force and waking the holocron. The familiar sight of Solon, his severe, elderly face and long black robe, appeared in holo above the black pyramid. 

Solon studied Cody’s and Ahsoka’s serious faces before giving Obi-Wan a deeply suspicious look. “What did you do?”

Obi-Wan glared at him. “I didn’t _do_ anything. Anakin found out I’m a full Sith, and that Palpatine is a Sith too. I did not have a chance to explain about his being a Midichlor before he stormed out, and we’re on a countdown until the clones are triggered.” He spoke rapidly in a monotone. “It’s past time for you to be a _great deal_ more specific when you describe the relationship between the clones and the Sith’ari.”

“Of course,” Solon nodded seriously, looking closer at Cody. “Your power over them requires _waking up_ in the Force. You must find a way to call to their minds, and acknowledge the connection that already exists—the more time they’ve spent with you, the easier it will be.”

“Just… call to his mind in the Force?” Obi-Wan felt frustrated. “You seriously can’t be more specific than that?”

“No, not really,” Solon said dryly. Obi-Wan gave him a scathing look, and the holo shrugged. “You need to acknowledge and reinforce the bond, and thereby keep Sidious at bay. Think of each clone as having a smoldering ember of loyalty inside, and you need to blow on it and get it to flare up.”

“Poetic,” Obi-Wan grumbled, looking at Cody with a question in his eyes.

Cody nodded permission and Obi-Wan drew nearer, laying his fingers lightly on Cody’s temple and closing his eyes. Cody closed his eyes too, and waited. 

Obi-Wan reached into the Force, the ease of his connection with Cody making it unbelievably simple and quick to enter his mind. Obi-Wan could sense that Cody was a little uncomfortable—his mind abruptly felt slightly too-full, as if he were not alone, but he did not resist and the sensation was not overwhelming. 

All it took was a few heartbeats of following the feeling of unthinking loyalty that drew Obi-Wan deep into the subconscious of Cody’s mind, down into the roots of his personality and around the branches of his oldest memories. 

_There it was…_

Down in the kernel of Cody’s judgement, Obi-Wan felt a foreign presence in the Force. It was an oily feeling, a lurking danger. Obi-Wan frowned, focusing intently on the intangible space between their consciousnesses, plucking the faint glimmering bond that _did_ already exist, using it to purify the area. 

Obi-Wan wanted to smile as he pushed his energy into the bond, causing it to ignite and solidify. His relationship with Cody was already so strong, it shouldn’t have surprised him how easy it would be to claim him, reshape him, own him entirely—Obi-Wan recoiled quickly and pulled back, alarmed at himself. 

Cody blinked at him confusedly, as if unsure as to why he’d stopped. Obi-Wan could hear his thoughts: _But nothing had happened?_

Obi-Wan tried to smile reassuringly. “I believe that it’s done. You should be free from Palpatine’s influence. Do you feel any different?”

Cody shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t feel any different. I really don’t think anything’s changed. Can you be sure it’s fixed?” 

“I’m sure. I felt it ignite like Solon described.” Obi-Wan ran a hand over his beard, thinking about how exactly it had felt in the Force to reinforce the bond and how he would be able to replicate it at scale. He gave Cody a pleased look. “I was hoping you wouldn’t feel different afterward. It means your personality is not at all a product of the chip, Cody. All of the _Vode_ —you are all men of your _own_ creation. I promise to you, I will set you all free.”

“Thank you, General.” Cody smiled back with relief before seeming to remember the larger threat. He sat up straight. “You better hurry, sir. I don’t think we have much time.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened and he abruptly backed away and sat down in a cross-legged meditation pose, beckoning to Ahsoka. “Will you help me, young one? I’m going… I’m going to go deep into the unifying Force. I need you to anchor me here. Don’t let me go too deep.”

“Of course,” Ahsoka nodded, sitting across from him, their knees almost touching. She reached out and placed her hands on top of his. “Of course I will help.”

Obi-Wan smiled gratefully and let his eyes close, feeling himself drift into the strange unfettered sensation of hyperspace in the Force, loosening his connection with his body and the living Force around him, reaching out tendrils into the unifying Force when—

Obi-Wan suddenly could feel Anakin’s rage in the Force, from all the way across the galaxy, without the bond being connected. It was beginning to spike again, larger and larger. He opened his eyes and met Ahsoka’s startled gaze. _She’d felt it too._

Anakin must finally know the truth.

—

CORUSCANT

“They had no right to take me away from her!” Anakin shouted, pointing vaguely in the direction of the Temple, his voice sharp. “They had no right to leave her a slave and take me away, when I was where I was supposed to be! How _dare_ Mendax try to keep this from me? _How dare he?_ He’d stolen me, stolen my power! The Jedi killed her!”

Sidious nodded gravely. “The Force itself placed you with her, so that she should have been saved from such a heinous fate. Your place was by her side. Your power was created for you and her, not for the sake of the Jedi Order and Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“But they took me away!” Anakin snarled, he could feel the anger radiating off him like heat in the Force, but he didn’t care. It was too much. He began pacing again along the length of the window, moving in thoughtless haste. “They’re so _arrogant!_ They assumed I _belonged_ to them, just because I’m powerful! All for their own stupid prophecy? What about my life? What about the Outer Rim? What about where I was supposed to be? _What I was supposed to do?!”_

He clenched his fists before pointing back at the Temple accusingly. “They stole me! I don’t _belong_ to them! I’m nobody’s slave!” He pivoted and began pacing in a diagonal to his original path, sending a glare towards Sidious. “I’m more powerful than they can even possibly understand, and I was where I was supposed to be!”

“Indeed,” Sidious said, greedily watching Anakin’s progress across the room from his seat in his desk chair. “Your mother’s death was such an _atrocity_ , such a _violation_ , that the Force’s own rules of reality bent themselves in order to fix it, creating _you_. The Jedi violated the Will of the Force, through their hubris and their entitlement, allowing it to happen anyway. Causing it to happen, some might argue.”

Anakin nodded, pulse racing. “Mendax kept me away! He ignored me, ignored my dreams! He thought I was too _weak_ to see she needed help, thought I was making it up—but he was _wrong!”_ Anakin closed his eyes with frustration, his heart pounding in his ears. He felt like he was underwater, he couldn’t breathe. “All of my power had been given to me by the Force to protect my mom and defend myself! He took me away, took my power! He’s taken it and used it for his own plans, his own ambitions! He’s still taking it! _He has no right!”_

“Please put that down, my boy.” Sidious’s tone was indulgent, and Anakin realized that at some point he’d picked up an ornate metal statuette and had been holding it like a lightsaber hilt. He absently considered throwing it into the ornate golden mirror on the far wall, just to see if he could smash his reflection, but he sneered and put it down hard instead, taking a shaky breath before he continued pacing, his tone scathing. 

“He even agreed with the Council that I should not have been allowed to go save her—he just stood aside and let _evil_ happen! She died horribly, and it was his fault! He refused to listen to me—refused to _help_ me when I needed help! The Force itself was compelling me to do something, and he stopped me! The Jedi never ever wanted me to use my power, they’re afraid of it.” He glared at Sidious. “Well, they should be!”

Sidious’s voice was apologetic. “They don't trust you, Anakin. They see your future. They know your power will be too strong to control. You must break through the fog of lies the Jedi have created around you. Let me _help_ you to know the subtleties of the Force.”

Anakin looked at him, seeing him perhaps for the first time, as what he really was. Not just his mentor, or a kind and good man. He was _Master of the Sith_. “You will teach me the ways of the dark side? All of it? Keeping nothing back?”

“Yes, Anakin.” Sidious promised. “If one is to understand the great mystery, one must study _all_ its aspects, not just the dogmatic, narrow view of the Jedi.” He stood from his chair and drew closer to where Anakin was standing still in the middle of the room. Sidious’s tone was low, encouraging. 

“The Jedi have taught you to be weak, to be passive. They have taught you to stand aside and do nothing. They have taught you to silence yourself and restrain yourself—I will teach you how to act! I will teach you how to use your judgement, and how to execute your decisions. I will teach you to be an _agent_ of the Force, not a victim of its Will. You are _powerful_ , Anakin. You have more _strength_ in the Force than the Jedi can possibly understand, or possibly allow. I will teach you to set yourself free.”

Anakin watched him approach, feeling his words wash over him like a soothing wave. It felt like a promise of action, of movement, of _violence_. It seemed to Anakin like Sidious was offering him something indescribably precious—knowledge, identity, _license_. Sidious was offering him _freedom_ , the Jedi had treated him like a slave. 

_Obi-Wan had..._

Sidious’s presence in the Force suddenly seemed to come alive with the dark side, more powerful than Anakin could ever have guessed. His shields really were perfect, his skill formidable. His mind was reaching out and pulling, twisting and twining around Anakin’s presence of the Force. It felt like Sidious was testing him, measuring his darkness. It did not feel pleasant, or intimate, the way it had with Mendax. It felt cold, and merciless, and Anakin smiled. 

_No lies here. No pretending._

Sidious stood before him, his eyes lit with a dangerous fire. “You have such great potential, Anakin. You could become a very powerful Sith under my instruction.”

“Good. I would like that.” Anakin nodded sharply, knowing what he had to do. It felt right, it felt necessary—he dropped to a knee before Sidious, looking at the floor by his feet. “I pledge myself to your teachings. To the ways of the Sith.”

“Good.” Sidious echoed back, and when Anakin looked up, Sidious smiled down like he was proud of him. Anakin felt a ball of warmth ignite inside, something that had been missing suddenly replaced. It felt so good to see Chancellor Palpatine’s familiar face lit up with pride. He’d been seeking that validation since he was a small boy. To see it now, here—it felt like a blessing. “Do you swear revenge on the Jedi? For what they’ve done both to you and to the Republic”

Anakin nodded. _Of course._ “They will pay for what they’ve done to me and to the Republic.”

Sidious gave him a sharp look. “Do you swear revenge on Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

“Mendax will pay for what he did to me.” Anakin’s lip curled, feeling a surge of hot hate. His hands twitched and he clenched them into fists again. “I will make him pay.”

“Good.” Sidious stepped away from him, walking back towards his desk and retaking his seat. “Take out your lightsaber, and remove the crystal. You must have a proper blade—this is your first and only test.”

Anakin frowned at him, feeling a moment’s hesitation about bleeding his crystal. _Wasn’t that bad? Wasn’t it wrong?_ Sidious’s eyes were sharp and knowing, and Anakin knew this was what he’d meant by test. _Could he? Would he?_ Anakin grit his teeth.  _He must._

He slowly raised a hand and used the Force, lifting the hilt from his belt and disassembling it in the air until the kyber was released and floating out smoothly into his palm. The other pieces of the lightsaber fell to the floor in a loose pile. He looked at Sidious, waiting for instruction. 

“Firmly grasp the crystal in your hands, Anakin, and pour all of your frustration and hatred towards the Jedi into the kyber. All of your emotions towards Master Kenobi—give it all to the crystal, make it _learn_ your anger, _know_ your rage. Make it bleed for what the Jedi have done to you, what Obi-Wan Kenobi has done to you, what they _made_ _you_ _do_ for them, and what they made you _fail to do_.” 

Anakin nodded fiercely, reaching out into the Force and letting his feelings flow freely, letting his hands' tight grip on the kyber be like a conduit for the dark energy of his rage. 

The room began to grow chilled as he remembered rapidly in succession the face of his mother when he’d left her a slave and then when he’d found her again, Ahsoka crying and packing her things, Mace Windu talking over his shoulder, Mendax denying him from Tatooine, Yoda speaking about attachment, his mother’s broken face, Mendax kissing him, holding him, making him _love him_ … _Obi-Wan…_

Anakin screamed as the crystal burst into a torrent of fiery energy. The kyber had been corrupted—it screamed back with all the pain and anguish that was in Anakin’s heart. The red light was fire-bright through his hands, lit from within by the roiling strength of Anakin’s resentment and regret. All of the ferocity of his indignation at his mother’s fate, righteous and pure, beat in the bleeding heart of the crystal.

“Very good.” Sidious’s cold voice was low. “Rebuild your lightsaber.” Anakin obeyed without thought, using the Force to swiftly reassemble the hilt and slide the red crystal inside. “Ignite it.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin took a deep breath and moved his thumb, lighting up the blade. The red glow that filled the red room made his heart roar in satisfaction—he felt dizzy with it, savage with it. He wanted to use it immediately, he _needed_ to cut down his enemies and feel them die on his blade.

“Excellent work, Apprentice. That is a beautiful shade of crimson.” Sidious said, the red light casting strange shadows on his face. He sounded thoughtful. “Henceforth you shall be known as Darth… Vader.”

Anakin felt the Force swirling around him, accepting the change, understanding and assimilating it. He was Named—he had been made _new_. Anakin Skywalker was _dead_. His kyber crystal screamed with wrath and release, and it sounded right. 

Darth Vader dipped his head. “Thank you, my Master.”

“Rise, Vader.” Sidious smiled widely, beckoning him closer. “Ever since I've known you, you've been searching for a life greater than that of an ordinary Jedi... a life of significance, of _conscience.”_

Vader took a deep breath, nodding. “Yes, I have been.”

“Well, I can safely say, the war is over if _you_ want it to be over. It’s up to you, now, Apprentice. It’s well within your power to end the war today if you want.”

“How?” Vader felt a thrill of excitement. “Who needs to die?”

Sidious chuckled. “A great many people, I’m afraid.” 

Vader shrugged, rotating his wrist and watching with fascination as his _red_ blade cut through the air. “Who first?”

“Well, I don’t know if you have been aware, as I know politics is not your favorite area.” Sidious smiled, and Vader smirked back. Sidious’s face grew more serious. “I have been worried about a military coup by the Jedi since the beginning of the war, and it appears that now we’re going to have one. Master Kenobi... _Darth Mendax…_ will doubtless appropriate my army soon.”

“What?” Vader’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“Another thing he did not tell you, it seems.” Sidious laughed darkly, and Vader’s fingers clenched on his hilt. Sidious gave him an admonishing look and Vader nodded, extinguishing the blade and replacing it on his belt. Sidious nodded in appreciation and continued explaining, “He possesses the ability to steal the loyalty of the clones inside the Force. At any time, he can choose to deprive the Republic of its defenses.” 

“I had no idea,” Vader growled, his mind racing. “He’s probably been doing it already, and has been doing it the whole war. He’s always been very protective of the clones. Possessive, even.”

Sidious nodded. “I must declare him and the rest of the Jedi as enemies of the state, and see how many we can neutralize before they try to take over. We’ll never have a better opportunity once Mendax has taken the clones. We must strike now.”

Vader smiled. “Please, Master. I want them to be punished.”

“They will be,” Sidious cooed with satisfaction. “They will be.” He pressed a button, activating his holotransmitter, and Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard appeared, saluting and standing at attention. Sidious smiled widely at him, all teeth. 

“Execute Order 66.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Oh god, oh no, oh god..._
> 
> Did I mention that things get worse in this story? I suppose with an end like that, it really won't be a surprise that this was not rock bottom. It's not much consolation, but we are getting _closer_ to the bottom, and _closer_ towards things improving! Just... not yet.
> 
> Next chapter should be out soon :)


	17. Rampage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some violence and some angst in this one folks, heads up. Though, based on the ending of the last chapter, you probably saw that coming. I hope you enjoy!!

THE NEGOTIATOR

20BBY

Cody watched numbly as General Kenobi rolled his shoulders back, straightened his spine and relaxed his face. Commander Tano sat knee-to-knee with him, both of them tangled up sitting cross-legged. He knew that he had no sense of the Force, but their sudden stillness and silence was uncanny enough to make his skin tingle. 

He wished he had his blaster.

It felt like time was moving extremely slowly and far too fast at the same time. The looming danger’s uncertain but _imminent_ arrival was almost too terrible to consider. His brothers… all of them were vulnerable to a foreign presence that would warp them on a deep level, override their individuality, their independent will.

It was the worst fate Cody could think of for a clone. Their individuality, their uniqueness, their own judgement—those were the only things that a clone in an army really possessed. His body, his armor, his bunk, and his blaster all belonged to the G.A.R., not him. He could paint his armor all he liked, but it was not _his._

As a manufactured slave, all he had was intangible—his heart, his mind, and his name. They were the things that were _supposed_ to be untouchable, private, and safe from violation or control _._ It was devastating to learn that _even their innermost selves_ had apparently never truly belonged to the _Vode_ at all. 

_I’m not a droid._ Cody reassured himself. _I’m a person._

He jumped as his comlink lit up, and Cody looked with horror at the blank face of his General and back at the small holo figure of the Chancellor that had appeared above his wrist. _Should he disturb Kenobi? Should he warn him?_

“Execute Order 66.”

Cody felt a hint of a tug, a slight inclination that he ignored. He had a feeling that if Kenobi hadn’t confirmed their bond, he would have no problem whatsoever obeying the command. He absently confirmed, “Yes, sir.”

He wondered if he could prevent his brothers being triggered if he simply didn’t pass on the message. _Was he the only one who got it? Or was it every staff officer? What if it was every clone, every single one of them?_ The thought made him worry and look at the door. He had no idea if Kenobi was having luck with the rest of the brothers on the Negotiator.

Cody mustered courage and stood up, moving to the door to check the hallway. He looked back and muttered, “Please hurry, General.”

—

CORUSCANT

Darth Vader felt the first ripples of death in the Force, and it filled him with savage satisfaction. Each one felt like a spike of darkness—alarm and confusion, betrayal and fear, anger and agony, and then absence. Every death was painful, in a way that filled him with joy, as if he were snuffing candles one by one with his bare hands.

The dark side lingered and coiled around him. He had channeled so much darkness while bleeding his crystal that he still felt high from it. The colors were brighter, the air was sweeter, his wrath was pure and beautiful. It sang to him, demanding to be released. 

He craved violence, he needed action. The deaths of the Jedi in the Force was not enough, if anything it was only more fuel for his lust for blood, _for revenge_. He fingered his lightsaber hilt and roamed the room like a caged rancor, begging to be set free. 

Darth Sidious smiled at his coiled frustration. “First, I will prepare a statement for the Senate and the HoloNet, and then I will go with you to exact our revenge on the Temple. I must ensure the neutralization of the Council personally.”

“Yes, Master,” Vader said obediently, glad to have him to channel his power, give him direction, and target his rage. “Can I help? Is there something I could do right now?”

“Have patience, Vader,” Sidious chuckled. He removed his black cloak, straightening his purple robes that marked him as Supreme Chancellor. “This will only take a moment. Believe me when I say that I’ve been writing this speech in my mind for many weeks. Years, even. It will not take long to deliver.”

“Very well. Thank you, Master,” Vader nodded, and continued pacing. He had so much energy, so much _will-to-act_ that waiting was torturous. He unwillingly heard Darth Mendax’s voice in his head talking about his use of the dark side on Tatooine— _did you feel full of the Force, full of power, full of life? Did you feel a surge of energy and strength beyond anything you’d ever known before in your life?_ The memory made him scowl. 

For a brief moment, he hoped that Cody would just blast Mendax in the back of the head, and then he shook his head, instinctually reaching for the hilt of his lightsaber. Mendax had to die on _his_ blade. Vader was the only one who was allowed to kill him. In any case, _Darth Mendax_ was far too clever and powerful to be killed by a clone with a blaster. He was probably prepared for this, waiting and ready to escape. 

Hopefully, Ahsoka would realize what a monster Mendax really was and get away too. _Maybe she’d come back._ He smiled suddenly, amused at the thought. _Once the Council was dead, there’d be no one to stop him from teaching his Padawan._

“My fellow citizens of the Republic,” Sidious’s voice made Vader startle, looking over to see Sidious standing before his holotransmitter with a sincere look on his face. His voice was both warm and trustworthy, and Vader resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I have both good and grave news to announce. Happily, I can report that the Separatist mastermind and great enemy of the Republic, the renegade Jedi, Count Dooku, has been killed. This is a significant victory for the Republic, and brings us one step closer to the end of this terrible war.” Sidious smiled briefly, before his face fell, his expression growing serious and his tone more and more outraged. 

“As we all know, the war was instigated and perpetuated by this former Jedi, Count Dooku. New evidence has come to light upon his death, evidence that exposes a shocking secret and terrible truth behind the war. As a retired member of the Jedi High Council, Dooku himself ordered the clones that formed the bulk of the Grand Army of the Republic. He then proceeded to incite chaos and unrest throughout the galaxy, giving the Jedi Order both the weapons to fight and the excuse to wage war. 

“Through this terrible conspiracy, the Jedi have thrown the galaxy into chaos for the last two years—all in an attempt to destabilize the Republic and seize power for themselves. We’ve all endured countless losses, both in irreplaceable lives, and in our essential livelihoods—all because of the ruthless ambition of the Jedi Order! 

“I am sorry to say that the Jedi Council has been discovered to have been in conspiracy with the Separatists all along, under the leadership of Jedi High General and Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi. General Kenobi has betrayed all of your trust! He has been working in his own interest towards taking power, and has been exposed to be an ally of Dooku and a traitor to the Republic!” Sidious’s voice was strident, his delivery emotional and mesmerizing. 

“While thankfully Dooku himself has been killed, General Kenobi and the other Jedi responsible for this treason are all at large and extremely dangerous. The Republic Military is working hard to protect the public from the menace of the Jedi and their army of clones, and are searching tirelessly so that we may bring the traitors to justice. The Jedi Order is hereby disbanded, and all members are wanted dead or alive.” His voice had reached a fervent pitch, and Vader felt a thrill of exhilaration. 

Sidious took a deep breath, and then smiled again. “I will end with some good news. Now that the motivating force behind the war has been identified and removed, we should easily find the road to peace. I plan to reopen talks with the Separatist leadership immediately, and see if we can find a hasty resolution to the Jedi’s fake war and attempted coup. We will soon have justice against the treasonous and treacherous Jedi Order, and restore peace, prosperity, and unity to the Republic once again.” 

Sidious ended the transmission, and looked at Vader, a slow, cruel smile growing on his face. “Are you ready to take your revenge?”

Vader smiled back. “Yes, Master.”

—

THE NEGOTIATOR

Obi-Wan opened himself to the Force entirely, letting his consciousness drift away from his body and spread out into the mesh of space-time that comprised the unifying Force around him. It had always been easy to do this, almost too easy. He let his perpetual anxiety about that fact seep away into the full emptiness around him. 

Obi-Wan could see the living Force radiating from the clones in his mind’s eye, and it glittered with iridescent vitality. Most of the men were relaxed, at ease, and enjoying leisure. The ship was almost resonant with this rare moment of peace inside the Force. The emotions of the clones flooded into their surroundings, but Obi-Wan sensed that this one precious moment was not strong enough to overwhelm the dense cloud emanating from the ship itself—the Negotiator herself carried a bitter imprint of terror, resignation, and grief. 

Ahsoka glowed like a small star in front of him, her mind a bright light in the Force. He brushed his consciousness against hers with affection. _She’d chosen to stay. She’d chosen to help. She’d chosen him._ She acknowledged him through their rapidly strengthening training bond and urged him to hurry. 

Obi-Wan agreed and let his attention expand back to the ship mere moments before everything changed. There was a pause, a blankness, and a swell of intent. The Force grew suddenly murky with a wave of foreign, induced emotion—the dark side rippled through their minds, sticky with the fingerprints of Sidious and Tyranus. 

Obi-Wan felt a swell of surety and opened himself up to the full spectrum of dark energies in the Force, discarding his usual self-limitation and self-containment. He focused his attention on the dark wave emanating from the chips, and used the attractive pull of the dark side as his way into their minds. 

He summoned all the energy he carried inside himself, all his willpower, all his intent—gathering his own darkness along with the echoes of Anakin’s righteous indignation. He then reached out, seeking the fragile bonds that already existed, somehow woven like string through the fabric of space-time. 

They _were_ already connected; Solon had been right. The clones’ loyalty existed long before this moment, and would exist after, far into the future. It was a fixed feature of the shape of reality. The clones were loyal to Obi-Wan Kenobi. Tacitly from the moment of their birth and semi-consciously since the war began. 

Obi-Wan realized his duty to them in that moment. He remembered his words from the beginning of the war, words he’d pressed into Anakin’s mind through the bond, reassuring him of their true purpose— _We belong to them. Not the other way around._

Obi-Wan acknowledged his responsibility to them in a flood of reassurance and invitation. His power ate away at the fog surrounding their minds as they began to assent to his call to loyalty—his promise to do anything, give everything, in order to help them, protect them, and free them. One by one, he felt them shake awake, look around in horror, frown in confusion. 

Obi-Wan pushed an explanation to them as best he could, hoping that Cody’s report of their ability to sense his intent was valid and true. _He wanted them to be free. He wanted what was best for them, and only that, nothing more and nothing less. He would serve their interests before his own. He was theirs, he would work for them, fight for them, die for them._

It took an indeterminate amount of time before Obi-Wan sensed that all the clones on the Negotiator with their varying levels of initial loyalty had been purified of the taint of Sidious. Their presences in the Force shone dimmer than before with their horror and confusion, but the light was pure and clear. 

They were themselves again, with a hint of something more, some remnant of himself in each, a point of connection.

Obi-Wan felt tired. He assumed his body was exhausted from the effort of interacting with that much dark energy. Living flesh was simply not capable of enduring the presence of that much power. The dark side taxed and exhausted the user as it was used.

He tried to ignore his fatigue—he could feel a wave of deaths begin to sweep through the Force as the Generals in the field were the first to be taken out by their squadrons. Each death was like a stab to Obi-Wan, and every death was his fault. He reached for the disappearing Force signtures desperately to seek names. 

_Who was that? Who was that? Who was that?_

The galaxy was growing darker as the lights went out, and Obi-Wan felt a strange mix of both anguish and relief—a guilty kind of relief that his current task would be a great deal easier in an atmosphere of ambient darkness. The raw power from strong, pained emotions would be available for him to use in order to reach the far distant clones. 

The anguish was at the _cost_ of each swell of dark energy in the Force. There would be too many Jedi who had to die before Obi-Wan could get the energy to free their men. It was the cruelest bargain that Obi-Wan could imagine. The men would be free of Sidious’s control, but at the cost of the death of their General at their own hands.

_Could he make it in time to save the Padawans? The Temple?_

Each death felt like a new pinprick of a black hole that pulled and sucked the light of the living Force away from the dying bodies of each Jedi, one by one. Their lives all collapsed in on themselves and gave away, disappearing from the mortal plane. 

Obi-Wan grieved each life as it disappeared, and he felt almost sick with regret and anger. The galaxy was losing its lights, and it was his fault. His guilt and disgust at himself and his inaction only gave him more power—he pulled on his self-hatred as a portal to the energy of the dark side _. He had to do this_. 

Obi-Wan did a quick analysis of the range of his focus, and determined with a flare of desperate frustration that it was insufficient to reach _enough_ clones with _enough_ speed. He knew then what he had to do. He searched for Ahsoka’s light—having never really lost track of it, holding it tight as his anchor to his body.

Obi-Wan focused on the locus of her consciousness in the Force, using her light to recenter himself. He pulled his awareness back towards his body, down and out of his complete absorption in the Force. After several tense moments of intense effort as he began to feel as if his perception was being poured back inside his body like sand through an hourglass. He eventually huffed a breath of relief, his fingers twitching, and opened his eyes. 

Ahsoka was looking at him with a curious expression on her face. 

“What?” Obi-Wan said blankly, the scope of what he’d just experienced—and what he had left to do—rendering him temporarily inarticulate.  


“Nothing important,” Ahsoka said quickly. Obi-Wan frowned at her, and she smiled apologetically. “The hair on your temples turned a bit grey. What were you doing that took that much energy? How did you do it?”

Obi-Wan sighed with relief at her relaxed attitude, suddenly feeling the exhaustion that he’d known would be waiting for him upon his return. He looked at Cody, and the group of staff officers who’d crowded the room during his meditation. “It really worked?”

“Yes, General,” Cody said, with a smile. 

“Good.” Obi-Wan winced, feeling another Jedi’s death. He frowned at Ahsoka who also looked disturbed. It came from too close by, perhaps from Umbara? Obi-Wan grimaced—too many Jedi were dying too quickly for him to save. 

Obi-Wan didn’t know what Anakin was doing, and was afraid he didn’t want to know. He wished he were by his side, but knew it was impossible now.

_He knew what he had to do._

Obi-Wan tried to breathe deeply, and looked back at Ahsoka, making serious eye contact. “I’m going to have to go _much deeper_ into the Force to help the others, and it is going to be extremely dangerous. Instead of being my anchor, I need you to be a beacon, Ahsoka. I’m going to have to wander far. Call for me, and I should be able to find my way back. Just... don’t let go.” He squeezed her hands, nervously.

She nodded, her expression fierce. “I won’t let go, I promise.”

—

UMBARA

Rex lowered his blaster and made eye contact with Dogma. “What the fierfek was that?” 

“I… I’m not sure,” Dogma replied, looking slightly grey in the face, staring at the blaster-riddled body of General Krell. “I… I had to shoot him. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Well, it came over _us,_ not just you,” Rex reassured him. He looked around, seeing the confused and angry faces of his brothers. It had felt like an irresistible impulse, without any sense of the consequences for the action. It had been like his body had belonged to someone else, and someone had acted through and with him. 

Rex felt dirty, and he felt used.

“He’s right,” Echo added, dropping his blaster to the ground. Rex looked over and gave him a grateful nod. “It was all of us, we all did it.” Echo’s tone grew bitter and confused. “Why did we do that?”

“I’m not actually upset about it,” Fives cut in, looking at both of them with a slightly incredulous look on his face. “He was going to put me and Jesse in a firing line!”

“Yeah, but...” Jesse agreed, voice quiet. “What… what are we supposed to do now? Are we defective? Are we going to be sent back to Kamino?”

Rex laughed, and shook his head. “We’re not defective.” Everyone looked at him with a startled expression, unsure where the humor was coming from. He sighed and decided to share the knowledge flooding his intuition. “We’re not! I think we’re _free_ now. You’ll need to ask General Kenobi. He’ll confirm it, I’m sure of it. He wants us to be free. Ask him!”

“What? I can’t ask him.” Fives looked confused. “He’s not here.”

Rex rolled his eyes. “I know that. Ask _yourself_ what he wants. Didn’t you feel him, waking you up? Didn’t you feel what he said? We’re not slaves of the Republic anymore. We’re free.”

“Yeah, I thought I made that up,” Fives said cautiously. “Alright, I’ll try.”

Rex took his own advice, taking a deep breath and reflecting to himself about what the General wanted. His eyes wandered around the shadowy base, coming back to the corpse of General Krell. He wondered about what happened to himself and his squad. _Had it been every brother, in every legion, across the whole galaxy?_

“He’s coming to us, we need to stay here,” Fives said, tone uncertain. “Right?”

“Right,” Rex confirmed, feeling the truth of the statement in his bones. “Move the body to medical for now, let’s get the base ready for Kenobi’s arrival.”

“Yes, Captain,” Fives saluted with a flourish. “Right away, Captain.”

“Oh, shut it,” Rex said, filled with a wave of affection, and punched him in the shoulder. Fives saluted again and darted away. Rex shook his head and sighed, moving to help with the body. For some reason he looked up at the sky. It was dark and cloudy, and his intuition was full of dread. He muttered, “I hope General Skywalker is alright.”

—

CORUSCANT

Vader cut down the Gate Master at the Temple doors with a flourish. 

Master Jurokk had stood aside to let him and the Chancellor pass as usual, staring with confusion at the Coruscant Guard but unsuspecting of their true intentions. Vader wondered if he was senile, to have missed his glowing gold eyes. They were _not subtle_ , but the fool hadn’t even lit his blade. 

Vader pulled his lightsaber away and let the body fall. He could feel Jurokk's death in the Force, his confusion and surprise spiking into anguish and then vanishing. 

Vader smiled. 

He rotated his wrist idly, enjoying the gyroscopic effect that gave the blade of pure energy a kind of friction in the air. The red energy from the kyber at the heart of his lightsaber utterly saturated his weapon with the dark side. It pulled at the universe, demanding death and retribution. 

Vader sought another target, looking to the left. Sidious was busy cutting down the Temple guards with an unexpectedly quick series of attacks, all aided with a massive swell of dark energy, giving his blade unnatural speed and agility. Sidious sliced a yellow lightsaber in half and then decapitated its bearer, and spun away to stab another through the heart. 

Vader was enthralled by Sidious’s skill—he was channelling an unimaginable stream of dark energy and handing his body entirely over to its Will, letting himself become a pure and lethal weapon. Despite his age and apparent frailty, Sidious was surprisingly strong and quick, and Vader smiled at his ruthless and aggressive style of lightsaber combat. 

_His Master was the most powerful man in the galaxy, and the most dangerous._

“Shall we enter?” Sidious asked, breathing a little harder and looking with a smirk on his face at the slain bodies of the Temple guards surrounding them. The wall of yellow light that had been ignited to defend the entrance was gone, extinguished with the lives of those who had held the blades. “The way is clear.”

“Yes, Master,” Vader said, signalling to Commander Fox. Vader frowned when the troopers moved by—something was wrong with them, but he couldn’t tell what. They were obeying orders, but there was something off about it. 

“I will take the Archives first. It is the most important part of the Temple.” Sidious’s voice broke Vader’s concentration on the clones, and he looked over. Sidious raised an eyebrow at his distraction. “You will cleanse the building. Kill all the Jedi. All of them, Vader. _Every single one.”_

“Yes, Master,” Vader dipped his head, his heart burning with anticipation. “It will be done.”

“Very good, Apprentice,” Sidious nodded and turned, taking most of the clones with him. 

Vader nodded at the squadrons left to him, and looked around, deciding what direction to begin. “Let’s go to the southwest, Captain. Start at the Halls of Healing and work our way east.”

“Yes, sir,” came a monotone response. Vader frowned at him. He _felt wrong_ in the Force and Vader wasn’t sure why. All of the clones felt wrong. They were being far too quiet for a mission that required no stealth. Vader shook his head and turned away. It was not the time for him to solve that mystery. 

He strode forward, his cloak flowing around him. It was time for him to take his revenge. 

The Jedi Order took pride in how they wasted their power—how they stole it and hid it inside a palace in the center of the galaxy, sucking all the Force sensitive children away from the Rim. The children were raised to be agents of the status quo, ensuring and protecting only what existed, not what was right. Their greed and passivity were a blight on the galaxy, and Vader would make things right.

The fire in his chest was burning hot and pure now, and his power in the Force was coiling and flaring out around him. Vader had never let himself be free like this before, never let himself wield his blade completely unchecked by any reservation at all. There were guards waiting outside the Halls, their lightsabers lit.

Vader smiled, and attacked.

The guards offered no real opposition to his rage, his saber flashing and crashing with theirs in an overwhelming violent cascade, the power and rapidity of his strokes cutting through the guards quickly. The dark side gave him an incredible advantage against the weak and inhibited fighting style of the Jedi. 

The crackling of the blades was suddenly overshadowed as the sound of blaster fire began inside the Halls. The clones must have stormed around him as he focused on his fight. Vader cut down the last guard and followed his squad through the door, cutting down a panicked healer with disdain.

The feeling of death fed the agony of his blade, the dark energy around him growing more and more powerful. It was a heady feeling—he felt as if he had an endless capacity to change and shape the environment to his will. He was in charge, he was making changes. He was bringing justice. 

The fog of pain, surprise, and death in the Force was making him almost shudder with pleasure. Revenge was so sweet in that perfect moment. The dark side was filling his brain with endorphins and dopamine, rewarding him for his violence. He looked for his next target, eager to add to the feeling—seeking another hit. 

_He felt so alive, so full of purpose and power._ He moved to a new room, cut down another Jedi, and another, and another, until their faces blurred and individual deaths turned into a fog around him. Vader made his way surrounded by his troopers, sweeping through and past the Halls and beyond, ruthlessly eliminating every Jedi on sight. 

He felt like he could breathe fire; he was a Krayt dragon from his childhood, an unimaginable predator, and inhuman, amoral killing force. He would consume and destroy what had consumed and destroyed the life he was supposed to have lived—all the lives he was supposed to have saved. 

The Jedi deserved equal punishment. Eye for an eye. Death for a death. Vader would have justice—justice for every slave left in chains, justice for every planet sucked dry by unchecked, extractive occupation. There were many kinds of slavers, but their sin was all the same, and Vader decided they would _all_ pay in equal measure. 

The Jedi were just first on the list—Vader’s top priority. 

The Jedi had been given enormous power and they’d wasted it. Vader cut down another Knight who stood in front of what looked like a group of armed Padawans. Vader was only a couple years older than these young Jedi, who had mocked him and shamed him, excluded and isolated him. 

Vader smirked, and raised his blade before his eyes caught on something over their shoulder. 

He stopped abruptly, the fire in his chest swelling to unimaginable proportions. The Padawans in front of him began to fall to blaster fire, and Vader walked past them, unseeing with his focus fixed on the room behind them. 

The Force was giving him a gift; the bond had connected—Mendax was sitting cross-legged in the center of one of the rooms, peacefully meditating with his palms up. He seemed not to have noticed that the bond was active. Vader’s lip curled and he rotated his wrist with a flourish, advancing.

He would _make_ Darth Mendax notice.

—

THE NEGOTIATOR / CORUSCANT

Obi-Wan’s hands were cold. That’s all Ahsoka could focus on. She was worried about him, absent from his body, lost in the Force. His spine stayed straight, his expression neutral. Nothing had changed except the greying at the temples, a few lines by his eyes. 

She sighed, and began focusing, attempting to call him back again. She hoped beyond anything that he would come back, and not disappear into the Force—a dead mind, and a living body. _What would she do then? Where would she go? Would Rex help her?_

Her attention pushed out into the unifying Force, calling out as loudly as she could for Obi-Wan to return. It was tiring, but she managed. 

Her focus was distributed and diminished, but she still noticed something that felt like a bell ringing in the Force. She felt space bending and changing, as if the universe were folding to touch two separate points in reality. It felt wrong—this far into the Force she could sense just how much of the dark side was being used to fuel their bond. _Where was the energy coming from?_

She sensed the danger before it came, and rushed back into her body. Ahsoka opened her eyes, pulled Obi-Wan’s lightsaber off his belt with the Force in an instant, igniting it as she raised it and barely caught and blocked a decapitating strike against the back of Obi-Wan’s neck.

Ahsoka held Obi-Wan’s saber in one hand and Obi-Wan’s hand in the other. _She wouldn’t let go. Not now, not ever._ She made angry eye contact with Anakin, furious at his golden eyes and red lightsaber, their blades holding locked.

“Get away from him,” Anakin sounded surprised and frustrated. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Good job!” Ahsoka rebuked him, narrowing her eyes and pushing his blade back. Her tone was sharp. “What are you doing? Where are you? Whose blood is that?” She held Obi-Wan’s saber up in a guard position.

Anakin seemed to swagger, pulling his blade back with a flourish. “I am Darth Vader now. Anakin Skywalker is dead. He was weak and foolish, but my eyes are open to the truth.” He was talking too grandly, and his eyes were so, so wrong. He sounded full of joy, full of satisfaction. “I’m taking revenge on the Jedi! They must die for their crimes!”

“You’re in the Temple?” Ahsoka’s heart seemed to stutter to a halt and then began again, pounding hard. She looked at him with wide eyes. “My friends! You can’t kill my friends!”

Anakin frowned at her, swinging his blade with frustration. “They’re Jedi! They turned their back on you when you needed them!”

“Kalifa didn’t!” Ahsoka shouted at him, furious. She suddenly wrapped herself around Obi-Wan to the best of her ability, shielding him with her body and keeping his lightsaber up defensively. She began to yell, looking straight into Anakin’s mad, golden eyes. “Jinx and O-Mer didn’t! They were hunted like me! They’re innocent! All the younglings are innocent, Anakin! _You know that!_ What about Gungi? Katooni? You have to save them!” 

“No Jedi is innocent,” Anakin sounded less sure, but still frantic. “All the Jedi must die, the Force must be cleansed!”

Ahsoka growled and bared her teeth, and then took a deep breath. She knew that Anakin wasn’t rational now, it seemed like he wasn’t really all there. He wasn’t _thinking!_ He was lost in the dark. She began begging for them to be spared, hoping that the strength of her desperation would pierce the fog clouding his mind. “Save them, please! Skyguy, please! Please save them!” 

Anakin looked almost tempted for a moment, but then his eyes slid back to Obi-Wan’s head. He glared at Ahsoka again, pointing at Obi-Wan with his lightsaber. “What is Darth Mendax doing? Is he stealing the clones?”

"Darth Mendax?" Ahsoka scoffed angrily. “Obi-Wan’s setting them free! Your _new Master”—_ the words came out with a sneer—“is manipulating and enslaving their minds, turning them into mindless droids! Obi-Wan is trying to help!”

“No, he’s not!” Anakin yelled reflexively, frowning with confusion as he processed what she said. He shook his head, refocusing on Obi-Wan. His face contorted with rage, looking at Ahsoka with an accusing stare, “Why can’t you see? He’s taking power! He’s enslaving them too!”

“He is not!” Ahsoka glared back at him. “He’s doing this because he cares for them! He’s setting them free!” She clung to him a little tighter, plucking hard at Obi-Wan’s consciousness, calling as loud as possible into their diffuse bond. 

“Darth Mendax is a liar, and he doesn’t care about anyone,” Anakin said, his voice sounded hurt and resentful. He impatiently spun his lightsaber, his face a dark cloud of anger. “He’s just _stealing_ their loyalty to gain power. They’ll belong to him and be grateful for the privilege. That’s what he does! He sucks your power away from you, and takes it for himself! You need to get away from him now and let me do this!” He gestured again with his lightsaber, his eyes wild. ”I _have_ to do this! I don’t want to hurt you, Ahsoka.”

She wrapped herself further around Obi-Wan, and gave Anakin an incredulous look. “Obi-Wan loves you! I refuse to let you kill him like this.”

“He doesn’t!” Anakin barked a hollow laugh. “Mendax doesn’t know what love is. He can’t love! All he knows is control.” 

“That’s not true,” Ahsoka vowed emphatically. “I know he's not perfect! Nobody is! I do know that he cares for you, cares for me, cares for the clones! _Obi-Wan_ _loves us!”_

“We’re all very useful!” Anakin spat. “Stand aside.”

“No, I will not. I will not let you kill him, Anakin!” She sent a shout into the Force, begging Obi-Wan’s consciousness to return and help.

“I’m Vader, not Anakin!” Anakin snarled. “You’ve chosen Mendax, then? You’re staying with him, not coming back to be with me?”

Ahsoka’s jaw dropped at the extent of his madness. “Anakin, you’re covered in the blood of Jedi! I don’t want you as my Master anymore! You lost that privilege anyway when you left us!” Her hold tightened on Obi-Wan, sending another call to him into the Force. 

Anakin looked annoyed. “I didn’t leave you, I left him!” He jerked his chin up, pointing at Obi-Wan’s head. 

“I thought we were...” Ahsoka swallowed, voice thick, “You were my family. Why can’t you forgive him?”

Anakin glared at her. “Mendax killed my mother and stole my power. I don’t want or need to forgive him. He was _wrong_ , he is wrong. I was _right.”_

“So what!” Ahsoka laughed weakly, feeling like she was on the verge of tears. “It’s not what he meant to happen, obviously! Can’t you see that he loves you? Everything he does and says is always somehow about you! He can’t think about anything else. He’s _miserable_ when you’re not around. Everyone can see it, except you!”

Anakin just shook his head as if he were rejecting her words as somehow false. He spun his blade, his eyes as mad as ever. “Good. I hope he’s been suffering. I will put him out of his misery now.”

“No, I won’t let you kill him.” Ahsoka couldn’t believe this was happening. _How had her life come to this? How could it possibly have come to this?_ “I… I’ll fight you.” She reluctantly moved Obi-Wan’s lightsaber into an offensive position, offering him a threat in return.

“No, Snips.” Anakin lowered his blade slightly. “You’re my Padawan. Stop this.”

“I am not!” Ahsoka felt herself begin to cry with frustration, and let the tears fall, holding on to Obi-Wan and the lightsaber with white knuckles. Her hands were shaking. She looked at Anakin hopelessly, her voice growing thick as she suppressed a sob. “I’m not _your_ Padawan, _Darth Vader._ My Master is someone who saves younglings, he doesn’t kill them! If you kill my friends I will never speak to you again!” 

She sobbed despite herself, clutching Obi-Wan tighter. Anakin looked aghast at the sound, the blade of his saber dropping all the way. Ahsoka made herself beg, “You must save them! Obi-Wan is trying to help, but I don’t know if he can! I need you to help us! _We need you!_ Where is Palpatine? Is he killing the younglings?!”

Anakin swallowed and looked away, his tone uncertain. “I don’t know… It might already be too late, Ahsoka.” He looked at her, his eyes still gold but she saw something there. A hint of the real Anakin, she hoped. He nodded at her, “I will check.”

Ahsoka exhaled hard and nodded back, sniffing and wiping at her tears with her shoulder. “Thank you… Master.”

—

CORUSCANT

Vader walked to the crèche quickly, taking his troops with him. The red of his lightsaber made the red of the Coruscant Guard’s armor seem to glow with an inner light. It was hauntingly beautiful, in the empty, silent halls of the Temple. The fallen Jedi had the unsettling stillness of bodies that had ceased to breathe.

Vader felt his hold on the dark side slipping away. The power was still there, but he was having more and more trouble grasping it. He frowned, thinking about the Temple layout and Sidious’s probable route. He hoped that taking the Archives and the Armory would be more difficult than anticipated and that he would make it to the crèche first. 

Vader stepped over the bodies of Shaak Ti and Kit Fisto and felt an unexpected wave of regret. He shook his head and continued on, crossing the main hall, weaving around bodies. He spotted Windu, and felt a pang of nausea. Sidious had cut him in half. 

Vader walked faster, trying to ignore the bodies but almost stumbled when he came across _Yoda._ Yoda had fallen to Darth Sidious. _How was that even possible?_ Then Vader remembered the clones. An entire battalion of troopers had surrounded him, each an expert marksman and armed with the finest blasters ever produced. _If he’d been distracted by Sidious..._

Yoda’s body was riddled by blaster bolts, with no sign of any wounds from a lightsaber at all. Vader felt a sudden thrill of satisfaction that Yoda was actually killed by the clones. Using cloned men for war was Yoda’s biggest mistake, his worst choice. It felt like equal punishment that it was that mistake that killed him. It felt like justice to Vader, and that made him happy.

He walked more quickly to the crèche, following the trail of bodies left by Sidious and his troopers. His happiness morphed slowly into a sense of dread as he grew closer and closer to reaching the younglings, and the trail of bodies continued, grisly evidence of Sidious’s route. 

The dark side rose in him again, but it was a different feeling, a different kind of power. It was purer, cleaner. Ahsoka wanted him to protect the younglings, so he would. Finally, Vader reached the crèche doors and slowed down intentionally, taking a few deep breath to regain composure before calmly walking into the room. 

Vader's eyes swept the carnage and he stumbled, breath catching. “Stop, please, Master.”

“What?” Sidious looked over, brow creased in a frown. He checked the swing of his blade, and the cringing youngling sobbed. Sidious held up a hand and the clones stopped firing. He sounded a dangerous type of curious, “Why should I, Vader? Do you recall your orders? All the Jedi, every single one.”

Vader looked around the crèche again, looking more slowly, eyes dragging over the bodies before reaching a crowd of younglings clustered in a corner, who looked beyond terrified. They looked like they were trapped, and facing death with no hand to hold, no comforting whisper. Only a red blade, and no explanation.

Vader looked back at Sidious, squaring his shoulders. “Let me raise them. Don’t kill them. It’s a waste. They are innocent, they can still learn the ways of the Sith. I can teach them.”

“You want to play crèchemaster?” Sidious looked amused, and extinguished his blade, the red, angry light abruptly leaving the room. It was shadowy now, and Sidious looked increasingly pensive in the semi-darkness. “You will teach them?”

“If I have to, yes.” Vader felt a sudden surge of purpose, and a stray thought rose to his mind. “I think Master Billaba is in an induced coma. If the clones missed her ward, I can wake her up for help.” Vader frowned and looked back at the younglings in the corner. “Please, Master.”

Sidious made a deliberative noise, making up his mind, but then suddenly he stood up straight, looking around the room. Vader felt it too—the Force was suddenly full of Darth Mendax’s Force signature, steeped in darkness. It was impossibly strong, as if he was present, but not corporeal. 

_How was he doing that?_ Vader made eye contact with Sidious in confusion, and almost physically recoiled at the loathing he found there. He looked at the floor, trying to push the sensation of Mendax out of his awareness. _He needed it gone. He couldn’t handle it. He needed it gone. He couldn’t—_ it retreated, and Vader let out a breath.

All around him, the clones began to stop, shake their heads and look around with confusion. Their disorientation soon turned into horror as the haze of evil left them, losing the willful blindness to the suffering and sentience of others, and becoming aware of the consequences of their actions. The chip’s inexorable, amoral impulse to execute orders had made them forget that it was wrong to kill unarmed sentients who couldn’t fight back.

They remembered, now. 

The Force was thick with their despair and disbelief looking at the slain younglings. The sense of Mendax increased for a moment and then retreated. At the same time, all of the clones pivoted for the door and began to hustle away. It was one of the most uncanny things that Vader had ever seen. Mendax must have ordered them to get away. _They’d just traded one Master for another. The new Master might care more for their wellbeing, and give them a longer leash—but were they ever going to be truly free?_ Vader frowned, kicking the toe of his boot into the ground. He tried to keep his eyes away from the strewn bodies of younglings of all species and ages. His eyes kept jumping between them, jumping between causes of death. _Blaster, blaster, lightsaber.._

Sidious was glaring at the retreating backs of the clones, rolling the hilt of his saber between his fingers as if debating slaughtering them as they ran. It seemed that he decided against it, and he looked back at Vader with a sigh and gestured vaguely around the crèche. “These were the last of the Jedi, anyway. The rest of the Temple has been successfully cleared. I doubt Master Billaba survived, but you are welcome to check.” Sidious’s voice was growing increasingly cheerful, as if he were remembering that he was having the best day of his life. Vader realized he probably was. “You are dismissed to deal with...” He waved a hand vaguely at the younglings. “These.”

“Thank you, Master,” Vader bowed respectfully for a moment before a thought struck him and his head popped up. “Where should I take them?” 

Sidious looked annoyed. “I will have an assistant deal with it.”

“Thank you, Master” Vader repeated, bobbing another bow before turning and motioning for the younglings to follow him. Looking pale and shaken, the younglings followed him out, some too traumatized to cry, others sobbing quietly. Vader frowned at them, and tried to ignore the sound of crying as he made his way out of the Temple.

The dark side was seeping away from him as his emotions were spent, and his body grew increasingly tired as they walked. Vader didn’t slow down. He was frustrated that he didn’t feel as relieved by his revenge as he thought he would. He looked hard at the ground trying to process what he was feeling. 

The younglings followed him in silence, walking around the bodies with varying levels of poise. Vader tried to steady his breathing and not walk so quickly as to lose them. They trailed after him in a jagged line, the sobbing ones receiving comfort from the ones with hard faces and blank eyes. 

Vader stopped by the Halls of Healing, leaving the younglings in the first room with no bodies that he found, and continued on himself, walking to the far end of the ward and through the side hallway to the long-term acute care ward. All of the beds were empty except for the last one. 

Vader swore and kicked the bed with frustration. She was dead, a single blaster shot between the eyes. The clones were extremely thorough, and extremely good at their job. Vader stared blankly at the wall, feeling a crushing sense of obligation. _There was nobody to hand the younglings off to who would know how to handle them. He was the only one. He had to do this. It was up to him._

Vader clenched his jaw, turned and walked away, feeling like his last guardrail had fallen. He suddenly understood for the first time how it felt to really accept that he was the one responsible for himself. At that moment, he was completely alone, a Sith, and apparently in charge of approximately twelve younglings of varying ages. 

Getting revenge hadn't even changed how much it still hurt to have failed in the essential purpose of his life, and lost someone he _loved—_ he loved so few, but so _strongly_ that without their presence, he had always felt incomplete, like he required them to be stable, to be whole. Not anymore, he swore to himself. He was independent. He would never rely on Sidious the way he had with Mendax. He was his own man. 

His anger spiked again when he remembered that that needy hole in his heart, the one he was currently stitching closed as best he could—the most vulnerable part of himself—was how Darth Mendax had manipulated him for years.

He pushed away the thought of Mendax and stormed out of the ward, rounded up the younglings, who all cringed away from him, and led them to the hangar. “The ship to the left,” Vader said flatly, checking his data pad and raising a pointing hand. He was almost impressed, the Chancellor’s office was nothing if not fast. 

The clone transports were all gone, and without the Chancellor’s aides they would have not had a ride or a destination. Vader looked at the empty space where the clones’ ships used to be. Their retreat was so fast, and done so cleanly. Mendax must have ordered a full and immediate retreat of the Coruscant Guard. 

Vader hated that Mendax was powerful enough to do that from the other side of the galaxy, and he hated being reminded of how it had felt to have Mendax’s mind sweep against his own.

_It felt so good._

He clenched his jaw, looking back at the Temple one more time. He would _never_ enter that place again. He turned resolutely and walked away. The Force around him was dark, in a new way—a deeper darkness made by the absence of familiar light. It was oddly freeing, and oddly aching. 

Vader followed the last youngling onto the ship and kicked the pilot out of his seat. “Ok,” he said while dropping into the chair and looking up at the pilot, a false, cocky smile spreading across his face. “Where are we going?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope that was an entertaining installment of the pain train, which is chugging along merrily, don't you think? 
> 
> Don’t worry—I cannot stress this enough, there will be more smut in this story. Eventually! 
> 
> New chapter should be about a week! Thanks again for reading and commenting, and I can't believe we hit 700 kudos that is so incredible, I'm so glad people are enjoying! <3


	18. Renegade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 18! aka the _some chess pieces need to be moved forward_ chapter!l
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and sticking with the story through the plot-heavy _Suffering_ section haha I appreciate a lot all the support, comments, kudos, it has meant the world to me! 
> 
> Enjoy our baby Siths becoming the Siths they were always meant(?) to be!

THE FORCE

20BBY

Obi-Wan drifted. 

It was extremely inadvisable to fully detach one's consciousness and enter the Force, but he had no choice. He knew implicitly that he had to trust himself, his power, and his ability to access more power once he’d completely let go and entered the weave of space-time. 

With one last mustering of will and energy, he shoved away from his mortal body and spiraled away from himself, spreading his consciousness out into the infinite, invisible architecture of the unifying Force. 

He focused intently on that particular, singular moment, refusing to spread himself through time—only space. It was difficult but he _somehow_ did it, pulling on the sorrow and anger in his heart and the infinite sadness of the clones that was spread to all corners of the galaxy.

Obi-Wan could see everything, all at once, and it was beautiful. 

The galaxy was vibrating with luminous life—waves of emotions rippled away from the hearts and minds of all the sentients, creating a vast, tremulous outline of suffering and joy, rage and pleasure. 

Vivid, vibrant pockets of suffering drew his attention and he pulled their energy into himself, adding their pain to his own, taking their burdens into his heart and gaining power to act through his indignation at their circumstances, his commitment to helping them, his _love_ for them. 

Thousands of planets, thousands of Jedi, millions of clones. Obi-Wan focused and noticed the millions of fragile threads that already twisted out and away from him out into the fabric of reality, leading from his heart to the hearts of every clone—they really were _all_ already connected, and there were so many! 

He focused on the familiar feeling of Rex, so close and yet so far from him, and allowed his consciousness to slide closer, lighting a purifying flame and promising protection, whispering over and over. _He wanted them to be free. He wanted what was best for them, and only that, nothing more and nothing less._

Time was an eddy, circling and stationary, as he visited more and more planets within the space of heartbeats. Obi-Wan was spreading through the galaxy, throughout that one single moment in time. He wanted to laugh with incredulous joy—he somehow had access to power almost beyond imagination. _How could he do this? Where was the energy coming from?_

He brushed up against the mind of Anakin, and felt the heat of his wrath, his madness. Obi-Wan’s consciousness was scalded by his resentment, and he retreated. The clones around Anakin needed Obi-Wan, more than any other clones in the galaxy. 

Their horror at slaughtering younglings was beginning to cloud the Force with thick, sticky horror and disbelief—some were raising blasters to their temples before Obi-Wan yanked hard on their threads, stopping and summoning them, promising them absolution, freedom, forgetting if they chose. 

They all chose him. Over and over, the clones allowed him to light the torch and finalize the latent bond. _The clones were his, had always been his, and would be his until the end of their days. Not out of fear or obligation, but out of love._

Obi-Wan felt honored, and he shouldered his tremendous responsibility with a silent promise. _He was theirs, he would work for them, fight for them, die for them._

Ahsoka was calling him, plucking desperately at the diffuse fabric of his consciousness. Obi-Wan felt regret—he couldn’t come back, _not yet,_ not when there were so many more clones to save. 

She called again and again, her need was a clarion call through the Force, pulling him home to his body. Obi-Wan reluctantly ignored her, freeing the clones on Naboo, Eriadu, Utapau...

She cried out again, shouting with such fierce desperation that Obi-Wan stopped for a moment before pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion. _He was so close. He couldn’t abandon Sullust, Tibrin, Vassek..._ Obi-Wan made one final push, sweeping through the trailing regions of the galaxy, burning bright and pulling hard. 

_One final push..._

—

THE NEGOTIATOR 

Ahsoka jumped when Obi-Wan gasped, his breathing changing as his chest heaved with exertion. His fingers twitched—his mind was sinking back down through his body, coming back to her. _He came back. Of course he’d never abandon her_. She clung to him tighter for a moment before pulling back, sitting back in front of him, unable to release her hold on his hand and his lightsaber.

_He’d been just over there, so close, so recently…._

Ahsoka’s panic was not over. Not at all. Her heart was still pounding, her breathing still fast and hard—she was still shaking, crying, and unable to stop. There were voices talking at her, around her, but she couldn’t hear them, couldn’t process them. 

_He was gone, it was over, he was gone, it was..._

“Thank you, young one.” Obi-Wan’s voice was a little rough but still the most comforting thing she’d ever heard, its familiarity breaking through the spell of her panic. Her eyes snapped to his, so pleased to see him awake and aware that the gold didn’t bother her at all. It was even almost comforting, having become almost familiar, almost expected.

Obi-Wan was looking her over with a furrowing brow; his eyes skimmed down and fixed on the way she was clutching his hand and his lightsaber with white knuckles. His voice was gentle as he studied her expression, concerned. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“Your bond with… it connected.” Ahsoka said faintly, squeezing her hand once more before releasing her grip on his hand with some difficulty. She examined her cramped hand and took a deep breath before looking back at him, expression vulnerable. “I protected you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes sharpened with focus, staring at her intently. “How was he?”

“He was lost in the dark,” Ahsoka shook her head, trying to find the words to describe what he’d become. “He was _mad_. He tried to _kill you_. He said his name was _Darth Vader...”_ She swallowed, blinking away the tears that refused to stop. “I asked him to save my friends. I hope he listened to me.”

“I hope so too.” Obi-Wan looked grim. “Not all of the younglings survived, Ahsoka. I know that for a fact, I was there briefly. Many were dead, and all could have died after I left. I hope he didn’t...” He trailed off, looking disturbed.

“He said he would check,” Ahsoka whispered. “He said that, like he meant to help. It seemed like he would try.”

“Do you mind if I…” Obi-Wan looked as if he were asking despite his better judgement, like it was something he wanted so much it was breaking past his reservations. “Can I see? Can I look at your memory? I want to see… I need…”

Ahsoka studied his expression and then nodded, “What do you need me to do?”

Obi-Wan looked incredibly grateful and guilty at the same time. “Just think back through it, try to remember it, it’ll make it easier.”

Ahsoka nodded again, and Obi-Wan lifted his fingertips to her forehead. She closed her eyes, making herself think back through it all, no matter how much it hurt to remember. She felt him slide over and into her memory through their bond, watching with her. 

It was slightly uncomfortable, but she didn’t mind. She knew how much it meant to him—how much Obi-Wan missed him, needed him, loved him.

“He might have tried,” Obi-Wan said eventually, his voice cautiously resigned. “I don’t know if his effort would have been successful.” His voice became more serious and low. “Thank you again, though, Ahsoka. For protecting me, offering to fight for me. It means more to me than you can possibly know. I think that the strength of your calls during… _his…_ attack...” 

Obi-Wan looked uncomfortable and apologetic, shifting his position and wincing at the return of blood to his extremities. “Your summons were strong enough to call my mind back to my body from across the galaxy. Your strength could have made all the difference, and saved my life. So...” He opened his arms and pulled her forward into a hug, and she collapsed into his embrace. He murmured reassuringly, “You saved my life at least twice today, Ahsoka. Thank you.”

Ahsoka nodded into his shoulder, and took a deep breath with difficulty. She tried to calm down completely, and he gave her a steady breathing example to follow, like her crèchemaster had given her as an anxious youngling. It was perfectly familiar, exactly what she needed. 

Finally feeling safe, Ahsoka relaxed her grip on Obi-Wan’s lightsaber and tried to offer it back to him. He raised a hand to take it, and then paused. He stared at it for a very tense moment, then dropped his hand and looked back at her, his eyes sad. “I think you need to keep that.”

She blinked at him, wrinkling her brow, not understanding. She offered it again. 

He made an apologetic face, shaking his head and speaking quickly and quietly. “I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen next, Ahsoka, but I do know one thing.” He looked up at the clones, eyes jumping from face to face before returning to her. “I’m going to have to _fight_. I can… I can feel that my lightsaber does not want to do that with me. I’ve lost that privilege. You should take care of it for me.”

The implications took a moment to sink in, and then Ahsoka swallowed, realizing that she had to make a choice, either to accept or reject him for what he really was—a _Sith_. It seemed like he was finally facing that truth too. 

Ahsoka abruptly realized that she didn’t care. Obi-Wan had always protected her, protected the clones. He wasn’t _evil_ like she thought Sith had to be—he was trying his best to _help_. Beside that, she had promised that she wouldn’t let him go crazy. He _couldn’t_ , she refused to lose him like she’d lost… _He needed her_. 

She nodded, “Yes, alright, Master Obi-Wan.” 

Ahsoka closed her hand back around the hilt, reaching for the kyber in the Force, greeting it, requesting permission. It sang back its joy at her presence, and she cracked a small smile, hefting the cool weight of the lightsaber in her palm with a new sense of purpose. “It seems happy to have me wield it.”

Obi-Wan nodded in satisfaction, the sadness in his eyes turning into resolve. “Good. You are the future of the Jedi Order, Ahsoka. I am… not.”

“I know,” Ahsoka sighed, attaching the lightsaber to her belt next to her own. “I know.”

“General, sir...” Cody sounded uncomfortable at disturbing them. “You should watch this. The Chancellor has just given an updated statement to the Senate.”

“Play it,” Obi-Wan said, his voice bleak. 

Ahsoka snuggled into Obi-Wan’s chest as they watched a small holographic display of Chancellor Palpatine— _Darth Sidious_ —declare the end of the war, the reunification of the galaxy, and the creation of the first Galactic Empire. His language was lofty and grand, and slowly Ahsoka began to tune it out, unable and unwilling to follow the rhetoric.

She was so incredibly tired—she’d been tired when she’d left her bunk, and _so much_ had happened since then. Her panic attack had left her completely drained. Her eyelids began drooping, and she suppressed a yawn. Curled up against Obi-Wan suddenly felt to her like the safest place in the galaxy. 

The thought must have travelled up their new training bond, because Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around her, letting her relax completely, and began to drift to sleep. The comfortable hum of familiar trooper voices made her feel strangely like she was _home._

Palpatine’s voice seemed oddly far away. _“...As part of the terms of reconciliation, the Separatists have agreed to hand over their arms and bases to the Republic Military, and allow them to be used in order to quell the insurrection of the Jedi and their army of clones...”_

“So…” Cody looked at Obi-Wan and grumbled. “We’re still going to be fighting clankers?”

“We’re still going to be fighting clankers.” Obi-Wan confirmed in an undertone, resigned. 

Ahsoka sighed, and fell asleep.

—

CORUSCANT 

Padmé opened her arms and beckoned the youngling closer. His eyes were full of confused longing, so she beckoned again, kneeling down a bit, making herself more accessible. He tentatively came closer and she wrapped him in a hug. The young Togruta buried himself in the folds of her skirts and clung on tight. 

Darth Vader watched her hold the boy, and it made her skin tingle unpleasantly. She’d been extremely uncomfortable and confused when he’d shown up at her apartment, demanding her assistance. He wasn’t Ani anymore, and Padmé didn’t know who he was. 

She barely felt safe being around him, after what she had heard he’d done. After what he’d helped _their new Emperor_ do. Liberty was _dead_ and Ani was a _monster_ and… 

Her eyes fell back on the crowd of traumatized younglings and she sighed, holding the boy who was still clinging to her waist even tighter. She gave Vader a wary glance. “I think I will be able to help you find good people to watch the youngest ones, see that they get a standard education and stay healthy.”

Vader nodded, his expression annoyed and impatient. “Good. They are the majority of my problem.” He gestured to the other side of the room at the slightly older younglings, who were clustered close together and talking quietly. “The ones who can do more than just hold sabers are ready to learn. I can teach them. I don’t…” He frowned. “I don’t know what to do with these.”

Padmé pursed her lips as he gestured over at the youngest, who were getting served hot chocolate by a droid that he must have purchased immediately upon arrival at the complex the Chancellor had arranged for them. She wanted to roll her eyes at Ani’s trust in and fondness for droids, but he wasn’t Ani anymore, and she was afraid to anger him. 

She was just glad Vader was open to hiring actual sentient nurses and teachers to watch over the surviving Jedi younglings, and not just leave them with droids. The small boy pulled away from her skirts and she gave him an encouraging pat on the back, pointing him towards the hot chocolate. He gave her a tentative smile and darted away, joining the others. 

Vader’s comlink lit up, and he answered immediately, bowing his head. “Master.”

“Lord Vader,” Sidious said in an irritated tone. “Go to Kashyyyk, we’ve received intelligence reports that a Jedi is hiding there. Your orders to kill all the Jedi _have not changed_. Why are you not investigating this lead already? Why is it on my desk?”

Vader looked extremely uncomfortable. “I apologize, Master. I was making further arrangements for my students.”

Sidious did not look impressed. “If this is going to prove a distraction, you will find their number decreasing _one by one,_ Vader.” Padmé noticed Vader stiffened slightly, but there was no other visible change to his face. 

Sidious continued speaking with no change in tone between his threats and his commands. “Go to Kashyyyk, eliminate the Jedi, and _then_ you can deal with your _pupils.”_

Vader bowed his head respectfully and spoke with conviction. “Thank you, Master. It will be done.”

Sidious gave him a final glare and said, “Good.”

The holo of the Emperor disappeared, and the room was very quiet. Padmé looked from the youngest to the oldest youngling and made accidental eye contact with Vader in between. He was looking at her with an indecipherable expression. His eyes were a kind of molten, glowing gold that seemed inhuman—like he was possessed. 

Padmé repressed a shudder and looked away. 

Vader spoke, his tone level. “I must leave, immediately. I trust your judgment, and appreciate your assistance in this...” his words trailed off for a moment, and Padmé’s eyes snapped back to his face to find out why. His expression was an odd mix of regret and irritation. “Obligation.”

She nodded her head at him tentatively and Vader turned towards the eldest of the younglings. “Kalifa, Jinx, Petro, you’re coming. The rest stay here with the others.” 

He turned abruptly and left. The three named younglings gave each other incredulous and frightened looks, and followed after. Padmé watched them leave with a frown. 

_Darth Vader made no sense._

—

UMBARA 

When Quinlan dropped out of hyperspace, he immediately swore and swerved, almost getting flattened against the side of a Star Destroyer. His subspace radio crackled to life.

“We have you on our screen now. Please identify.”

“My name is Quinlan Vos,” Quinlan grumbled, still working on piloting his ship a safe distance away and regaining stability. He looked around with confusion and reluctant wonder at the number of ships arranged around Umbara, looming in the shadows. There were so many Destroyers that they were arranged in _layers_. 

Quinlan felt more than a little overwhelmed by the scale of what looked like at least half of what used to be the G.A.R. surrounding a single planet. It was the largest, most powerful blockade that he’d ever seen. “I’m here to see Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am a friend of his, and I’m… I was a Jedi. Ask him, he invited me. Please don’t shoot me.”

“Hold your position but...” Quinlan frowned at the uncertain tone of the clone. There was a pause. “I’m pretty sure that General Kenobi wants him to go straight through.”

The voice of another clone was audible, just as confused. “I think so too...”

“You are cleared for landing.” The first clone’s tone was growing more confident. “I think you should head for the Umbaran capital. The General is there.”

“Great,” Quinlan said slowly, drawing it out into a question. He gave his radio one more confused look at the unusually casual clones. “Thank you?”

“No problem! Sending you coordinates now.”

Quinlan shook his head and piloted down to the shadowy surface of Umbara. It really was a good place strategically to muster strength—located within the occluding Ghost Nebula, Umbara was cut off from the observation of the rest of the galaxy.

He made his way to the landing pad of what looked like a new, much expanded base outside the capital city and touched down, stepping cautiously out of his ship and looking around at the orderly chaos of the men. It was so similar to bases he’d been on before, but there was also something different. He couldn’t put his finger on it. _More chatter? More smiles?_

He reached out with the Force and then recoiled, having discovered that he was both extremely close to Kenobi, and that Kenobi was leaking the dark side like he was a sieve. Apparently the days of shielding his disturbing level of power were over. Quinlan jogged over, giving him a wave to get his attention. “Hey! What the kriff is going on? You need to fill me in.”

Obi-Wan signaled _talk-later_ to the clone he’d been talking to before Quinlan’s abrupt arrival and looked over. Quinlan almost stumbled at the inexplicably warm glow of Obi-Wan’s Sith eyes—but recovered somewhat when Obi-Wan smiled at him like everything was normal and pulled Quinlan into a rough hug, slapping his back and then letting go. His voice was earnest and intent, “It is so good to see you, Quin.”

“Likewise,” Quinlan said, and there was an almost awkward pause where they both acknowledged the recent atrocity but declined to speak around it. The presumed and confirmed deaths of their friends, mentors, and protégées were all too fresh. Too few had survived. 

_Quinlan had not heard from Aayla, his apprentice, almost his daughter. She would have contacted him. She would have..._

Obi-Wan pointed at a temporary building further down the road, and began to walk. Quinlan tagged along, listening to Obi-Wan explain in a level tone, “We’re in the process of moving all the clones out of the Republic into safer territory beyond the borders, primarily out into Wild Space, but it’s not easy. Sidious hasn’t made his opening move yet, but believe me when I say that he’s getting ready. We’re running out of time.”

Quinlan nodded, and Obi-Wan sighed. “In addition to that, our scouts in Wild Space have discovered a compound, a Zygerrian facility that breaks slaves, containing by estimates about 50,000 recently acquired Togruta. Ahsoka wants us to rescue them.” Obi-Wan waved Quinlan through the door, and led him down the hall into the command center. 

The room was filled with clones, all wearing the distinctive armor of Commanders in the G.A.R., but the insignia of the Republic had been painted over. It had been replaced with the emblem of the Open Circle Armada—a yellow circle, with two separate red semi-circle arcs. Quinlan had once heard it explained that one arc represented Kenobi, the other, Skywalker, and that the image signified that while they were both two independent halves, together they formed a single entity. 

He’d thought that it was a pretty flashy advertisement of _attachment_ then, and thought the same thing now. Allegedly, it had been awarded to their fleet for distinguished action in the war, but Quinlan still thought it was a little too _cute_ to be unintentional. He refocused on the discussion. “Don’t you want to rescue them too? The Togruta?”

Obi-Wan gave him a look. “Of course I do, Quin. Don’t be ridiculous. I just want to make sure that we do it right, and doing it right involves securing the safety of all the clones. We can’t leave anyone behind.”

“Yeah, fine.” Quinlan agreed, finding a bare piece of wall to lean against. “But I want to rescue the Togruta before they hurt them, so put me on _that_ mission. I hate slavers.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Quin. You’re not the only volunteer.” Obi-Wan chuckled, and turned away, his eyes seeking a particular Commander. He signaled to Cody and walked closer to the holotable.

Cody began the briefing, quickly moving through the information reported by the scouts about the location of the Zygerrian slave breaking facility and its presumed defenses. 

He concluded, “In the long term, it would be a lot easier to maintain supply chains and secure essential resources if we had a permanent and well-supplied base out there.” He said the last bit like he was breaking a taboo, saying something unspeakable, forbidden. “Somewhere we could create or join a complex economy, to support the _Vode_ as a free people as well as an army.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched and he nodded. “Thank you, Cody. I had the same thought.” He expanded the map of Kadavo and Wild Space to include the spinward fringe of the Republic. “I have a plan, but it would require a lot of volunteers...” He zoomed in on Zygerria, which occupied a position on the border of the Republic, close to the autonomous Corporate Sector and Wild Space. 

It was a legal gray zone, technically within the borders but had never joined the Republic or agreed to its jurisdiction. Zygerria had its own set of unjust laws. “Queen Miraj Scintel is holding a Royal Slave Auction again, once the Togruta are broken. I think we should stop it before it happens. We could…” 

Obi-Wan looked around with a slightly apprehensive expression before continuing, “We could take Zygerria for ourselves—free the slaves, punish the slavers. Raze the slave market to the ground and rebuild the economy with free, paid labor. Create a permanent home for the _Vode_. It’s…” Obi-Wan made eye contact with Ahsoka, who looked surprised and worried. “It’s what Anakin would have wanted us to do. What I’m sure he wants us to do,” Obi-Wan corrected quickly, as if using the past tense was painful. 

The clones all exchanged looks and then many smiled at each other and at Obi-Wan, their eyes lighting up with fervent purpose. The energy in the room swelled, and the clones were vibrating from excitement. Cody spoke, his tone deadpan, “I don’t think that you have to worry about volunteers to free slaves and build a home, sir.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, almost dipping the top of his head towards him in a sign of respect, his tone grateful. “Will you begin the plans?”

“Of course,” Cody replied, looking around the room. “Right away, sir.”

Obi-Wan nodded at him, dismissing himself, and looked over at Quinlan briefly with a cautious expression. Quinlan raised an incredulous eyebrow, and Obi-Wan shrugged and tipped his head, silently asking Quinlan to follow him out. 

Quinlan looked once more around the room at the eager faces of the clones, and back at Obi-Wan before he pushed off the wall and followed after. _Had Obi-Wan really just asked the clones to make plans to conquer and colonize a sovereign planet? Zygerria was once the heart of an empire, was this about that?… or was this about Anakin?_

_What the kriff is Obi-Wan doing?_

—

KASHYYYK

Darth Vader ignited his saber, and took a moment to fall into synchronicity with the wrath of the kyber, reminding himself of his call to arms, his duty for justice, and his orders from the Emperor. 

The flickering red light of his blade was both reassuring and motivating. The bled crystal reminded him of what he was, what he’d done, and what he had to do. He felt the energy of the dark side begin to flow around him, into him, through him. 

_He was the Force’s weapon, his actions were sanctioned and right. Those who stole lives would have their lives stolen in return._

Vader listened to the indignant song of his crystal, for a moment longer and attacked.

Master Luminara Unduli blocked, and pushed him back with the Force. She spun and moved farther away, trying to get off the beach, off the sand, onto more stable footing. 

Vader appreciated her effort—he hated fighting in sand. He charged after her, the dark side giving him extra strength and speed, his anger and grief creating a cloud of power around him. 

“Why are you doing this?” Luminara asked, blocking his aggressive flurry of attacks, her tone frustrated and frightened. “Why are you attacking me?”

Vader glared, his lightsaber seeking her neck. “How much death have you allowed, Jedi? How much suffering have you failed to prevent?”

“Hypocrite,” she said fiercely, her blade spinning and moving into an offensive position, attacking him in return. “You’ve done no differently from me.” 

“Exactly,” Vader snarled, beating back her offensive strikes. “You _Jedi_ stole me, lied to me, held me back—turned me into an enforcer for the corrupt! You used me for my power! You killed my mother!” Each offense was followed by a blow. 

“I had nothing to do with any of that!” Luminara said, frustration lacing her words as she blocked him again and again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Vader felt his anger growing, a storm cloud beginning to gather above them. _They all always denied culpability. Who then was responsible for the deeds of the Jedi, if not the Jedi Masters?_

Their blades crossed and crashed, the sound carrying far and echoing off the towering trunks of the trees in the massive forest. Luminara was skilled in combat and very clever, the most difficult of his targets so far. 

_Vader had killed so many Jedi. So many more needed to die..._

His sense of justice rose, a heady cloud of indignation against Master Unduli and everything she represented fueling his movements. He felt the rightness of his words and his beliefs in his bones, swinging at her and crossing blades, pushing her back. 

“My power is mine, I should get to use it _how I was born to use it—_ to help people, not to play Jedi politics.” He spat the last two words, spinning his blade to disengage, moving back and circling to better ground. 

Luminara was gasping for breath, “The number of people saved by _Jedi politics_ —” 

Vader cut her off, attacking her weak side. “You weren’t saving _people_ —you saved the _idea_ of people. You lost sight of what you were supposed to do! You tried to improve statistics, not lives!” His tone was frenzied, his technique growing almost sloppy with his haste to finish the duel. They disengaged and circled each other. “I was born to right wrongs, and the Jedi failed me, failed the galaxy! _”_

Luminara shook her head in despair, adjusting her grip on her lightsaber, holding it up in a guard position. “I don’t deserve your judgement, I’ve always helped everyone I could.”

Vader attacked again, breathing hard. “You’re wrong, you didn’t. You were willing to let people suffer and die for the good of an idea, for the majority. Every single death matters! _”_ He used his signature, aggressive form of Djem So, beating her back. 

Luminara gave him an imploring look, blocking the best she could. “What about mine?”

“It _matters,”_ Vader said flatly, his eyes tracking her exhaustion, the weaknesses in her defense. “You wasted your gifts, misused your power!” He began a complex and rapid attack, enjoying the overwhelmed look in her eyes. “You failed the galaxy, Jedi.”

Luminara missed a block, and Vader’s red lightsaber went through her chest, next to her heart. She blinked in surprise and then her face contorted in pain. “I’m… sorry,” she panted, her life fading rapidly as Vader helped her to the ground, catching her as she fell. 

She whispered, “I did the best I could.” 

Vader felt the living Force leave her body, and laid her out on the ground. “It wasn’t enough,” he whispered back to unhearing ears. “You should have done more, cared more.”

His head snapped up when the Force trembled in the distance with a spike of unimaginable grief and despair. Vader smiled without humor. _It was always easy to find the Padawans_.

He took Master Unduli’s lightsaber from her hand, and attached it to his belt next to his own before rising. He looked down once more at her still body, and then strode with purpose in the direction of the disturbance in the Force.

Vader’s emotions were writhing out of control, and it was almost painful. His pleasure and satisfaction in furthering his revenge and obtaining justice was overwhelmingly good, and he felt almost drunk on it… but there were knives attacking him from underneath. 

If only he didn’t feel _regret_ like a perpetual gaping wound in the back of his mind. He couldn’t get rid of it—the agonizing guilt always crept into his thoughts, undermining his peace of mind. _Were the Jedi really first priority? Why wasn’t he killing Hutts? Because his_ Master _said no?_

Vader shoved it all back and down, like he always did—crushing it deep inside, where nobody could find it. He always felt better when he did that, and it made sure that Sidious didn’t and couldn’t notice his inner conflict. 

He wound his way through a wall of trees and discovered that Padawan Barriss Offee wasn’t even attempting to hide, and was kneeling in the center of the clearing, her lightsaber placed on the ground in front of her. 

As he drew near, her head shot up and she looked at him with a mix of hope and fear. “Please, before you… I _agree_ with you! The Jedi were _wrong!_ They deserved to die for their crimes.” Her voice became more and more tremulous as Vader continued to come closer. “Ahsoka said you were kind, please… _please_ don’t kill me.” 

Vader frowned, searching his memory. He _did_ remember seeing them together. He confirmed, “You are friends with Ahsoka?”

“Yes,” Barriss nodded vigorously. “She is my dearest friend. Last I heard she was with Master Kenobi, do you know if she’s alright?”

He answered tersely, “She’s fine.” _She’d chosen to stay with him, not me_. He gave Barriss an evaluating stare, and she shifted uncomfortably. “You two were close? Does she miss you?” _Would she be mad if I killed you?_

Barriss looked up at him with anxiety, her eyes flicking to his lightsaber. She seemed to understand the subtext of the question. “I…I think so, yes! I miss her, very much.” 

Vader considered. He didn’t have many options. In fact, he only had two. He shrugged, crossing his arms and speaking matter-of-factly. “Do you want to learn the ways of the Sith? You can join me, or die.”

Barriss searched his face, hope blooming in her eyes. “What… what do you mean by ways of the Sith?”

Vader waved a hand vaguely as if the question was about inconsequential details, rather than the core of his offer. _What did it even mean to be a Sith? Nobody had really told him. They just used his power for their own plots._ “Do you want to learn to actually use your powers to fight for people when you feel that it’s right?”

“More… more than anything,” Barriss said, her eyes flicking in the direction of Master Unduli’s body. Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath, her jaw clenching with resolve. 

Vader watched with amusement as Barriss stood and rolled her shoulders back, straightening her spine. Obi-Wan would be impressed at the way she quickly smoothed her face of fear and put up a convincing façade.

His anger spiked and he looked hard at the sky to contain his frustration, just like every other time memories of Darth Mendax floated into his brain. 

It was like he was haunted by them— _memories of being stupidly happy, and being a blind, stupid fool! His happiness had been a lie, and he’d been tricked and manipulated and kissed and fucked and Obi-Wan…_

Vader shook his head sharply to clear it, and looked back at Barriss who was standing incredibly still, watching his face, and waiting for his decision. 

Vader nodded. “Fine. I’ll take you as a student, and if you talk to Ahsoka, tell her I’m sorry.”

Barriss looked startled and then almost sympathetic. Vader turned away from that expression and began to walk quickly back to the ship. Her light footsteps followed him all the way. 

Vader was satisfied to find that the three younglings he’d brought along were still occupied at the tasks he’d left them when he’d finally tracked down Master Unduli. His sudden presence startled them badly, but he ignored it.

“Jinx, you’re copilot. Kalifa, deal with Barriss, you’re sharing a bunk. Petro…” Vader looked around the storage bay. “You have room for katas in here. I want you to go through Shii Cho slower than you think you need to, and until I come back and say stop. Got it?”

“Yes, Lord Vader,” Petro said, looking around. Vader liked him best because he wasn’t afraid of him. “Do you have any practice sabers?”

Vader looked over at Barriss until she jumped and volunteered her own, and then he nodded bluntly, turning and gesturing at Jinx to follow. 

Sidious’s voice whispered in the back of his mind— _you will find their number decreasing one by one, Vader._

He couldn’t believe he’d been so foolish as to consider it a favor that Sidious had spared the younglings and let him teach them. All Vader had done was offer up twelve… _thirteen_ now… new ways to punish him when he failed. 

His fingers brushed Luminara’s lightsaber, hearing its wail at his touch. _He hadn’t failed. He wouldn’t fail._ _Not yet. Not ever._

—

THE NEGOTIATOR / IMPERIAL LAMBDA-CLASS SHUTTLE

Obi-Wan stared at Darth Solon’s holocron for a long time before using the dark side to wake it. He’d been avoiding doing this, but they were finally in hyperspace and the timer was running down before they reached Zygerria.

_This was a conversation that he needed to have._

Obi-Wan waved his hand, his power washing over the holocron. The Gatekeeper appeared almost immediately. Solon’s eyes flicked from Obi-Wan’s boots to his eyes, taking in his armor and stressed posture.

“Am I to understand that you have woken me for advice and instruction, or are you intending to continue berating me? I’m rather tired of the latter option.”

“Shut up, Solon,” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “You are insufferable. No, I’m not here to berate you.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “I need the crystal, for my lightsaber.”

“Oh, really?” Solon looked extremely pleased. “I take it that your crystal has wised up?”

“Apparently,” Obi-Wan said through gritted teeth, fiddling with his glove. 

Solon’s satisfied look deepened. “You can have it, but only if you promise that you will follow my instructions and break the curse.”

“Within reason,” Obi-Wan said, giving him a resentful look. “And you must be completely forthcoming with information without evasion, Solon. The instant I discover that you’re hiding something from me again, I will crush and space you.”

“I know, I know,” Solon waved a hand. “It’s almost time, anyway.”

“See? It’s cryptic _cheeskar nok_ _poodoo_ like that, that makes me want to space you!”

“Swearing like him won’t bring him back,” Solon grumbled. “The Midichlor has to be with Sidious, anyway. This is the best possible outcome.”

Obi-Wan laughed without humor, gesturing broadly with his arms as if trying to reference the entire galaxy. “In what possible universe is _this_ the best possible outcome?”

“You, _again_ ,” Solon glared at him, “Have failed to take the curse into account. It’s as if you are incapable of processing the basic information that _the entire galaxy has been doomed to enfeeblement and decay_. The Midichlor is the only one who can stop it. You must enable him to do so, Sithari. It is literally your one and only job.”

“It is not,” Obi-Wan said sullenly. “I have other responsibilities. Many and various, Solon. Your curse is not on the top of my mind at the moment, I do humbly apologize,” his tone was growing sarcastic and resentful. “I’m a trifle _distracted_ counting down the moments until I, _me_ , Obi-Wan Kenobi, lead an army to conquer a _planet_. I need the kriffing lightsaber crystal, alright? Can we do the lecture later?”

“What planet?” Anakin’s voice was resentful. “What planet, Darth Mendax?”

Obi-Wan’s head snapped to the left. “Anakin!”

Anakin’s eyes glowed gold, and his voice was a growl. He’d appeared near the door, and it seemed as if he had just walked in. Only the uncanny silence of the bond gave it away. “My name is Darth Vader.”

“Sidious named you, then?” Obi-Wan confirmed absently as he studied Anakin’s appearance. He looked so tired, so angry, so _hurt_. Obi-Wan felt a rush of emotions, a fierce spike of desire to comfort, to protect. “Are you alright?”

Anakin laughed at him, his tone dark and resentful. “Am I alright? No, Mendax. I am not alright.” He reached for his lightsaber and ignited it, the crackling red light casting shadows on his face but not the room around him—he wasn’t really present, and it made Obi-Wan’s heart ache. 

Obi-Wan studied the red blade, the red light reflecting in Anakin’s eyes. He shook his head, “I will not fight you, Anakin.”

Anakin moved forward, swinging his arms in a ferocious attack. “That is not my name!”

Obi-Wan slipped to the side, evading the blade. “It is too, Anakin. Stop this.” Anakin glared at him, curling his blade around, attacking again. Obi-Wan dodged, adrenaline washing over him. He felt the dark side curling around him and raised a hand, focusing hard.

Anakin stopped in confusion, his eyes sliding around the room. Obi-Wan slid backwards and away. “Which one are you?” Anakin frowned, and sliced at empty air. He growled, checking his blow. “Stop being a coward! Stop hiding behind illusions, and fight me!”

Obi-Wan sent words through the bond, making them sound in Anakin’s mind. “I will not fight you, dear one.” Anakin’s cheeks flushed, and he looked livid. 

He sliced even harder at the empty air, cutting another illusory Obi-Wan in half. Every word was emphasized when he spoke, “Stay out of my mind, Mendax. You have no right to touch me there!” He cut down another illusion. His face filled with rage. “Fight me!”

“No!” Obi-Wan made his voice come from all corners of the room. “I will not!”

Anakin seemed to boil over with frustration, looking around at all the illusory images of Obi-Wan. He spun his saber in preparation, and Obi-Wan saw the moment where Anakin decided to bait him—tried to lure Obi-Wan into violence. “I killed Luminara today, I cut her down in cold blood! I killed Oppo Rancisis yesterday, and Adi Gallia the day before! I killed the Healers in the Temple, I killed the Teachers! _Fight me!”_

“Did you kill the younglings?” Obi-Wan‘s voice echoed from all around, his tone colder despite himself. His words came out dry and glacial. “We both know you’ve done it before.”

Anakin’s cheeks flushed an even deeper pink, and he was breathing hard. Obi-Wan wanted to touch him so badly it hurt. He stayed away. 

“No,” Anakin spat. “I took them away.”

Obi-Wan felt a swell of relief. “I’m proud of you for that, Anakin.”

“You shouldn’t be!” Anakin laughed darkly. “I’m raising them to be warriors loyal to the Empire, not _Jedi.”_ He took another obligatory swing at another illusory Obi-Wan, as if to soothe his anger, rather than actually kill. “What planet are you trying to conquer? It’s my duty to the Emperor to stop you.”

Obi-Wan deliberated for a moment, and decided the news would not be secret for long. “I’m going to conquer Zygerria. They’re holding a new slave auction, did you know? 50,000 Togruta. We’re saving them, too. Ahsoka’s leading that mission.”

“What?” Anakin’s blade lowered, his eyes widening. “Wh—” 

The bond abruptly failed, and Anakin disappeared mid-word. Obi-Wan kicked his desk in frustration and dropped the illusion. All the other Obi-Wans faded slowly. 

The holocron looked unimpressed with him, and Obi-Wan glared, summoning his new hilt to his palm with enough power to create a slapping sound. “Give me the crystal, Solon.” Obi-Wan held out his other hand. “I need to be able to actually defend myself next time.”

Solon nodded agreement, and the holocron opened, the red light of the kyber inside instantly radiating out into the room. As Obi-Wan reached for it, Solon said in an admonitory undertone, “Remember, you must do as I say. You must help me break the curse.”

“Fine,” Obi-Wan said, the shrieking lamentation of Darth Solon’s kyber crystal seemed to make his bones ache. It radiated power and despair beyond anything he’d felt before in a lightsaber. He slotted it into place with the Force and took a deep breath before igniting the saber. 

Obi-Wan stared at the humming scarlet blade for a long moment before nodding, his expression serious and intent. “I’ll do as you say.”

—

ZYGERRIA 

Cody watched impassively as General Kenobi’s new red lightsaber went through the chest of the Zygerrian queen, right through the heart. He thought it was a merciful death, compared to what horrors they’d seen in the short time since their arrival. 

Kenobi had spent the last five minutes with his fingers on her forehead, stripping her mind of all the information he needed. It had looked remorselessly painful for her, and nauseating for him. Several clones had stepped out, but Cody had stayed.

If his General had to endure something, Cody would too. 

“What do you suppose we should do with the body?” Kenobi’s voice was bleak. “I want to avoid martyrdom. The Zygerrians can’t have any figures to rally around.”

“Burn her and then space her, I guess.” Commander Bacara’s voice came from behind them both. Formerly in command of Ki-Adi-Mundi’s forces, he had proved to be the most ruthless of all Kenobi’s advisors. “Don’t say where.”

Kenobi looked at him for a long time, and then nodded. He looked at Cody instinctively, as if to check his reaction. Cody stayed impassive. _You had to do what you had to do._

“Find a crematorium,” Kenobi said, turning back to face the balcony of the throne room. “Quietly.”

Bacara saluted and left the room, signalling to some of the men waiting outside to collect the bodies and carry them out. Cody tried to do a quick count, but it was too many to tell at a glance. _It had been a massacre._

The Zygerrians had no warning before the entirety of the former G.A.R. dropped out of hyperspace. They’d tried to bargain for peace, but the General would not hear terms—he kept saying that their fate was already decided, they’d made their choices, and that it was too late. 

He ordered the invasion without hesitation, jumping in the first available ship to join the clones on the ground. He seemed incapable of resisting leading from the front. Every trooper Cody saw was smiling at his enthusiasm to protect them, and finish the assault quickly. _Their General._

Kenobi had cleared Palace quickly, making no distinction between guard and politician, military and civilian, only stopping to free slaves and send them out, over and over. The troopers had been told to hold fire until they were positive their target was a slaver, not a slave. 

Then, to fire at will.

The sounds of explosions from the city drew his attention. They must have cleared the slaves out of the pens. Cody didn’t bother to repress his smile at that. He’d been part of the team that took that building in the initial assault, and he was still in shock from seeing the state of the slaves while he’d cut the chains—it was an inconceivable, unacceptable level of suffering. _Kenobi was fixing it._

Cody felt a swell of pride, staring at Kenobi’s silhouette in the door to the balcony, the light from the setting sun making the room glow around him. _His General_. 

Kenobi seemed to notice his attention and looked back, making a signal for Cody to come closer. His tone was severe, his face drawn. “I think I’m ready to make a statement that we can spread on the HoloNet.”

“Yes, General.” Cody looked around suddenly for a bit of cloth. “You might want to wipe the blood off your face first, sir.”

Kenobi gave him a horrified look, and they stared at each other for a long moment, before both cracking apart, laughing. It was hysterical, disbelieving laughter, a shared moment of mutual incredulity at how their lives had turned out. 

“We can’t have that,” Kenobi finally said, after they’d laughed long enough for Cody’s cheeks to hurt with his smile. “They mustn't know the truth.”

“No, sir.” Cody tried to stop smiling, and failed. “We can’t have that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes!
> 
> Arguably, we've kind of been bouncing along the rocky bottom since last chap. I kinda think next chapter will be true rock bottom, but we'll have to see what you think when I get it done! Should be about a week! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and enjoying my story!! :)


	19. Retribution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to share this chapter with you, and finally be able to talk about it. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy this Angst.
> 
> If you were wondering how the author pronounces it in her head, Remule is a combo of Remus + Romulus, so it is Ree-mew-lee to me :)

NEW REMULE 

Early 19BBY

Obi-Wan shifted in his seat at the head of the table, and frowned. They really had to get him a less comfortable chair _._ This new one was a little too plush, a little too soft. It made his posture a little too slumped. _He was too tired..._

All Obi-Wan really wanted was to be sitting cross-legged on a rock in a cave, located somewhere in the middle of a deep forest on an uncharted planet. He wanted to have no responsibilities. He wanted to be invisible. He wanted to be alone. 

_No... He wanted Anakin back… The bond hadn’t stopped torturing him for months… At the beginning Anakin would attack every time it connected, and he’d thought that was bad, but after enough unsuccessful attempts, he’d stopped and now Anakin mostly just made himself invisible… Obi-Wan preferred when Anakin had attacked, because he could at least see him, even if Anakin hated him, which was just a dismal statement about the state of..._

“General?”

It took him a moment before he realized Wolffe was talking to him. He shook his head slightly and smiled apologetically. “My mind wandered, I’m terribly sorry. It’s these blasted chairs,” he joked. “They’re putting me to sleep.”

“Good,” Cody muttered, admonishing him. “You should sleep.”

Obi-Wan shot him an annoyed look. “I try, you know. I don’t just stay up on purpose. Anyway, I do meditate most days, it’s basically just as good.” He shifted in his seat again—stretching slightly and trying to become more alert. 

_He hated sleep… Sometimes he might wake up holding a sleeping Anakin, and it’d be beautiful at least for a moment, with his Padawan so close, so soft, so precious, so warm... Sometimes he’d wake up because Anakin was trying to kill him. Mostly he woke up alone. How could anyone sleep like that?… They were haunting each other, and it was maddening..._

“Meditation is not the same as sleep,” Cody grumbled at him, and then sighed. “Do you have a final opinion on the budget? We’ve been talking about the same points for the last twenty standard minutes. Nobody has changed anybody’s mind, and the options are the same.”

“You didn’t miss much,” Bly confirmed, laughing. Obi-Wan smiled warmly at him. Bly was one of the kindest of the ten former Commanders who’d been elected to the Executive Council. Obi-Wan greatly appreciated the system that the clones had devised for themselves, and was still impressed at the speed and efficiency with which the clones had settled down.

_It was almost as if they’d been planning this for ages._

They’d voted and put him in charge, which wasn’t necessarily a surprise but more of a formalization. Obi-Wan was fascinated and impressed by the various forms of civil and military self-government that the clones implemented almost immediately. He suspected that Cody was behind the electoral push for naming their planet New Remule, but he was never certain. The explanation was something about being _citizens_ and welcoming all refugees and freed slaves—who could be fellow citizens, but could never be _Vode_.

The expertise, creativity, and generosity of the clones generally had always managed to exceed Obi-Wan’s expectations. Even though they had been designed to be lethal and to destroy, Obi-Wan discovered with a deep sense of satisfaction that they were equally, if not _more_ , equipped to nurture and to build. 

_If only Sidious would leave them alone._

“We’re solvent so far, but the rebuilding projects in the capital are expensive, on top of the ongoing defense spending. Our ships need more and better repairs, more fuel. We need to acquire resources.” Cody said dryly, sliding _another_ data pad across the table in front of him.

Obi-Wan’s hand shot out to catch it, picking it up with a sigh and skimming it. He frowned. “The situation is growing critical, isn’t it. Does anyone have any new or different suggestions?” The clones all exchanged uncomfortable glances, as if none of them wanted to be the spokesman for the big idea floating around the room. 

Finally, Bacara sighed. “Yes, I do. We should expand our territory spinward and take the Corporate Sector.” Before anyone objected, he began ticking off his supporting statements on his fingers. “It’s directly adjacent to our territory. It’s less well defended and less politically problematic than infringing on Republic or Hutt space. It’s exorbitantly rich, and we need _credits_.” 

He continued in a relentless tone, his eyes moving from clone to clone. “We could waste resources and send out risky expeditions to Wild Space for rare materials, _or_ we could use _credits_ to negotiate a trade and protection alliance with the Hutts. An alliance with the Hutts would help us survive this phase of the war.” He paused to take a breath, as if he had more to say, and then cut himself off, nodding once and sitting back in his chair. 

There were a lot of frowns at the suggestion of an alliance with the Hutts, with _slavers_. Obi-Wan sensed that most of them were trying to read his face and gauge his opinion. He raised an eyebrow and gestured to Bacara to continue. 

Bacara looked a little chagrined and finished quickly, “Spending credits to buy what we need would also be a good way to win the hearts and minds of the population of the spinward rim of Hutt territories. Supporting their economies, you know, maybe get the slaves on the planets to revolt against the Hutt oppression. It would make it much easier to annex the planets later, and look less like conquering and more like liberation. The treaty could just be a way in—we don’t necessarily have to honor it later.”

A long moment of silence passed and then Obi-Wan coughed. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?” He laughed, and the tension at the table broke _._ “I do agree with you, point by point. It’s like you read my mind, actually.”

Bacara looked proud and Obi-Wan noticed others looked slightly disappointed. They all enjoyed trying to use their uncanny Force sense of Obi-Wan’s intentions to predict Obi-Wan’s suggestions during meetings. They all had their own creative and original solutions, and happily pointed out flaws with his ideas, so it wasn’t like they were mindless. They just competed amongst themselves to predict him best. 

It was charming, disconcerting, and still at least slightly _worrying_. 

Bly sounded cautious. “Even if we did take the Corporate Sector, how would we get the credits? It’s not like mines where you can just appropriate the ore. How do you get credits out of territory?” 

“Taxes,” said Wolffe. “You get it through taxes.”

“What if it’s not enough?” Bly asked, still hesitant. “We’d be a net negative on the invasion in the short term, and the short term is what we’re worried about. How would we make sure we’d recoup our expenses? They’re infamous for tax _dodging_ in the CorpSec. It’s kind of the whole reason that sector exists.” 

There was a short pause, and then Obi-Wan sighed. “I know how.” 

His tone was unexpectedly dark, and all the Councilors looked at him with surprise. Obi-Wan frowned as he sat forward, setting the datapad down on the table with a sharp click. “Historically, they’re called proscription lists. Solon used them at the beginning of the first Remulan Empire. I was _really_ hoping to avoid it.”

“Why?” Cody asked cautiously, eyes flicking around at the others.

“You won’t like it,” Obi-Wan explained apologetically, spinning the datapad absently with his fingers before looking up. “Solon published a list of enemies, and everyone on the list was stripped of citizenship and excluded from all protection under the law. Their wills were voided, and their property went to the treasury after their death. It’s a form of state-sanctioned murder and theft. Induced murder _for_ theft, I suppose.” Obi-Wan mused, trailing off.

“So anyone could just kill the people on the list?” Bly looked uncomfortable. “Without punishment?” 

“With a reward, actually.” Obi-Wan dipped his head in affirmation, tapping absently on the desk. Bly frowned and Obi-Wan looked away from him, over to Bacara. “The person who did the killing, and everyone who gave information leading to the death, were all entitled to keep a _percentage_ of the estate. The remainder went to the state.”

Bacara smiled with understanding. “The richest were implicitly prioritized—larger shares for everybody.”

“Correct.” Obi-Wan grimaced. “That’s how you can _really_ get some credits.”

There was quiet in the room, and Obi-Wan wrapped his knuckles on the table decisively. “We’ll move on the Corporate Sector first, and once we have enough credits to be taken seriously, we’ll talk to the Hutts.” He looked at Wolffe, “I want to see an analysis of how many credits we can get _without_ putting out a proscription list. Get a team working on taxes, but… get another working on a list of names too.” Wolffe nodded gravely, and tipped his head at Bly, who nodded reluctantly. 

Bacara nodded along enthusiastically as Obi-Wan pointed his next directive to him, “Refine your _presumably existent_ plans to take over CorpSec, and prove to me that we can do it without critically weakening the blockade protecting New Remule from the Empire. Only when you’ve proved that can we move forward. Not a moment before.”

“Very good, sir,” Bacara nodded again, visibly excited. “Dismissed?”

“Dismissed,” Obi-Wan agreed with a huff of a laugh, watching all the men except Cody leave, chatting excitedly about how they were going to tackle their various assignments. When they were gone, Obi-Wan slumped back in his chair. He closed his eyes for a long moment, falling down into his breathing, centering himself. He could feel Cody’s worried eyes on him.

_Expanding territory, proscription lists, alliances with the Hutts… Anakin would hate that..._ _Obi-Wan was so tired..._

—

CORUSCANT

Darth Vader’s midnight snack tasted like ash.

As usual, Vader was awake late at night, watching the HoloNet, and drinking caf in the kitchen with the lights off. His eyes were fixed on footage from the ongoing conflict at the border between the Empire and the New Remulans. 

For months, Vader had been totally incapable of ignoring Darth Mendax, incapable of moving on, incapable of letting go. _How could he possibly let go when sometimes he woke up in sleeping Obi-Wan’s arms and he felt so safe, he ached to kiss him, suck on his neck, suck his cock—he wanted to kill him, he hated him so much, he smelled so good..._

Lord Sidious hadn’t even let him near that section of the galaxy for months—but that had _finally_ changed. The previous night, Vader had _finally_ gotten permission to go after Mendax, hunt him down, take him out. 

Apparently, to Sidious, annexing the Corporate Sector and creating an alliance with the Hutts pushed the New Remulans from being a useful enemy, whose existence justified militarization and solidified the unity of the Empire, into being a genuine threat to the Empire’s long-term security. 

General Kenobi was no longer useful to Sidious as a bogeyman, so Vader was given the task he’d most coveted since the day he’d learned the truth about Darth Mendax and sworn his service to Sidious. _He needed to fight Mendax in person, where he couldn’t escape mid-blow by disappearing back to the other side of the galaxy. Vader needed to fight him where the bond would be too strong for him to be fooled by an illusion, surely then..._

Vader absently tapped the control that started the holorecording over from the beginning, watching it again. The grey that had inexplicably appeared on Mendax’s temples made him look distinguished and wise. His voice was the same as ever—his crisp accent, angrily defending his men, was icy with frustration and disdain, and he shaped his words in that special way that still made Vader shiver despite himself. 

Mendax’s beige tunics had been replaced with white, his tabards a dark red that looked almost purple. He still wore his armor, but it was painted grey, and was so clean that Vader thought it looked almost ornamental. His beard was neat, and his hair cropped too short. _It looked better longer, like back in a speeder on Ithor, when the sunlight on Obi-Wan’s shoulder-length copper hair blowing gently in the breeze almost made him crash…_

Vader’s eyes fixated on the large symbol in the middle of the gray flag hanging behind Mendax—it was on Mendax’s gauntlet, too. It was the familiar sign of the Open Circle Armada, with the colors changed. Now the circle was white, and the two separate semi-circle arcs were the same reddish purple as Mendax’s tabards. 

_One of those arcs represented Anakin._ _He was supposed to be there._

Vader frowned and pushed the volume button hard twice, making Mendax’s voice louder, listening to his words again. “Our integration treaty with CorpSec and our _purely economic_ alliance with the Five Hutt Families are of no concern to the Empire, and are no threat to the Empire. The New Remulans are _not citizens of the Empire_ , and never were. We were slaves, but now we are free. Our affairs—”

Anakin felt a small disturbance in the Force and quickly tapped the projector, pausing the playback. Without turning around, he said, “Can I help you?”

Barriss’s voice came the doorway, and she sounded cautious and speculative. “Lord Sidious wants you to bring him in?”

Vader turned his head and looked at her. _She’d been an invaluable assistant and enthusiastic student. He wasn’t mad at her. He wouldn’t take Mendax’s dealings with the Hutts out on her._ He looked back at the holo, his voice quiet in the low light. “Or take him out, yes. It’s finally time.”

Barriss came closer and looked at the frozen image of Mendax giving his speech. She said absently, “He was your Master.”

Vader glowered at her, throwing back the last of his caf and setting it down hard, pushing away the empty mug. “Correct.” 

“How are you going to do it?” She asked curiously. Vader felt a rush of incredulous anger, and she hastened to clarify. “By what mechanism? How are you going to get near him?”

Vader’s shoulders dropped, and he looked back at the holo. “I’m not certain. He’s got an army and a navy in front of him. I’ll have to run the blockade somehow. It will be hard but not impossible...”

Barriss swallowed and squared her shoulders. “I have an idea that might make it easier, actually, which is why I disturbed you in the first place. I truly do apologize for the inconvenience, and the late hour, but it just occurred to me, and I—”

“What is it?” Vader cut her off. “What’s the idea?”

“Well,” Barriss said. “It’s Ahsoka.”

—

KADAVO

Whenever Ahsoka could get away from her duties with Master Obi-Wan in New Remule and with the fleet manning the blockade, she’d been staying in a tent tucked inside a small cave near the rim of the caldera on Kadavo. It was where she went to think, and to process.

She hadn’t let them blow up the slave processing facility when they were done saving everyone, no matter how much Vos had wanted to—it was too important to keep as a reminder and a warning of what evil the galaxy was capable of producing.

_It was what the Jedi were supposed to prevent—what they’d_ _forgotten, living with privilege and luxury on Coruscant._

The lingering suffering in the Force radiating from the building was deeply painful, but in a useful way, like the way a muscle burning in exercise will grow stronger. Her grasp on peace and compassion needed to be tested and strengthened in the midst of agonized despair. 

_She just had to find peace first…_

She’d been meditating for about six hours, and was hovering a small way off the ground, some stones circling around her gently, all held in harmony with her focus in the Force—when her comlink rang out. She dropped hard against the rocky ground and glared at the comlink for a long moment as it continued to chime. 

It was strange that a transmission would get through, when she’d specifically noted she was going on retreat, and would not be available. Transmissions were supposed to automatically bounce, to avoid just this kind of scenario—with the _falling_ and the _rocks!_

She realized it must be addressed to her personal comcode... _So few knew that!_ _Who was it? Was it an emergency?_ She looked at the incoming name, rolled her eyes, and put through the transmission. “What is it, Master Obi-Wan?”

“Ahsoka, hello,” Obi-Wan sounded distracted. “We’ve just received a very strange transmission from a ship piloted by someone claiming to be Barriss Offee requesting permission to visit you in order to gain asylum. Is that something you’re expecting?”

Ahsoka jumped upright, her excitement spiking. “No! I thought she was dead! I thought 66 got her or maybe…” She didn’t complete the thought. “When he killed Master Unduli!”

“I had the same thought.” Obi-Wan sounded pensive, and Ahsoka could picture him clearly with crossed arms, stroking his beard. “Do you think he would have kept her alive, if he knew she was your friend?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka nodded, simultaneously feeling a surge of both optimism and trepidation. “If he truly saved those younglings. I think he would have saved her too.” Her voice turned speculative. “Why would she be coming _now,_ not months ago? Why didn’t she com me before? Do you think she just escaped? Or...”

“I think…” Obi-Wan trailed off, sounding apologetic. “I think Anakin is trying to get access to me through you. Sidious must have given him permission to hunt me down.”

Ahsoka thought through it rapidly, running her hand down her face in frustration. _She’d been so excited to see Barriss, too._ “You can’t let him do it. You have to turn her ship away!”

“You know how I feel about traps, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan sounded too flippant. “It’s much simpler to spring them. I have to face him eventually.”

“Must you?” Ahsoka said muelishly. She wanted to kick the pebbles by her feet. “I don’t see why you can’t just stay on the other side of the galaxy from him, until he’s _woken up_ from all of this.”

“Anakin won’t let me be on the other side of the galaxy for long,” Obi-Wan laughed sadly. “He won’t give up that easily, Ahsoka. You know that.”

“I do know that,” Ahsoka’s voice was glum. She looked out over the rocky hillside hopelessly, seeing only Anakin’s determined face. _His mad, gold eyes._ “He’ll never give up.”

“See?” Obi-Wan’s tone was teasing, with a hint of resignation. “Better to get it over with.”

“That argument is not as convincing as you think it is,” Ahsoka muttered under her breath. She took a steadying breath and straightened her spine, reaching for calmness and peace. The air was beginning to grow chilly, and she wished she were wearing her poncho. “What exactly is your plan?”

“Kadavo’s abandoned, right? Other than you?” Obi-Wan mused. “The facility is clear?”

“That’s correct,” Ahsoka said in a wary tone. “It’d be a dangerous place to fight, Master Obi-Wan.”

“No collateral damage, though,” Obi-Wan argued. “Private, no witnesses.”

“No medical facilities,” Ahsoka replied, mimicking his tone. “Absurd environmental hazards.”

Obi-Wan sounded dismissive of the risks, “You could basically sublight me back to New Remule before I bled out, that’s how close we are to a medical facility.”

Ahsoka grimaced at the vivid image. “I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I? Was this com really just a _notification_ , rather than a _discussion?”_ Her tone was growing dangerously exasperated. “Are you already on your way?”

“Well...” Obi-Wan sounded a little guilty. “Yes, I suppose I’m nearly there. Kadavo really is very close to Remule, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Ahsoka glared at her comlink. “Far too close.” She sighed and cracked her neck, trying to calm down. “Did you give Barrriss these coordinates? How far away are they? Do you think it’s truly even Barriss with him at all?” 

She looked around her cave and began to pack up her small bag with her few possessions, preparing to head back to her ship and make sure it was ready for their inevitable fast, emergency takeoff. 

_Some meditation retreat. She’d only just arrived!_

“It’s plausible that it is Barriss, so I’m hopeful that it is,” Obi-Wan said gently. “Anakin’s nearly to Kadavo. I’m hoping to beat him there, obviously, but I want you to leave now. You need to leave before he arrives.”

“No, I refuse to leave you two alone!” Ahsoka’s volume rose with her indignation. She threw her bag over her shoulder, beginning to march towards the landing pad of the facility where she’d left her ship. “You cannot ask me to _leave_ , Master Obi-Wan—not when you might need help. That’s not fair! He’s absurdly powerful and dangerous. Let me help defend you, please!” 

“No, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan said, his tone forbidding. “I will not let you be around him again. I will not let him hurt you, even by accident. It would destroy all three of us if that happened.”

“How do you think I feel about him hurting you?!” Ahsoka shouted into her comlink, frustrated beyond belief. She growled, and then made an effort to close her lips and stop baring her sharp teeth. “Why do you think that is acceptable, Master Obi-Wan? He wants to hurt you, kill you!”

“I know he does,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “We need to sort this out ourselves, Ahsoka.”

She scowled, and shook her head, almost losing her footing on some loose stones. “Not by letting him hurt you! That won’t help anybody.”

“I just need to talk to him,” Obi-Wan said evasively. “I need to hear what he has to say. He just needs to get it out, I know it.”

“You’re lying to me,” Ahsoka huffed, offended. “Why are you even trying? I’m not just anybody, I know you. You can’t lie to me.” 

Obi-Wan’s voice was full of fondness. “You’re the first to notice.”

Ahsoka thought about Anakin, who had _so_ _clearly_ noticed, and looked incredulously at her comlink. “I’m just the first to say so. You can’t just talk this through with him, he’s not _rational_. You hurt his _feelings_ , or _whatever_ happened, so he wants to hurt you back! With a _lightsaber_.” 

Obi-Wan’s voice became flat. “I’ll deal with it, Ahsoka. Please, leave now. I estimate that you have thirty standard minutes until my arrival. If you are still there when I get there, I am going to be very angry with you. Remember too that I can feel in the Force how far away you are. So… no parking behind rocks out of sight. I want to feel you at the edge of the system, alright? No closer.”

“This isn’t fair,” Ahsoka wanted to cry, out of both frustration and sadness. “Don’t make me do this, don’t make me wait to find out if you’re still alive. Don’t—”

“I’m sorry, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan said seriously. “I really am, but I either need to get Anakin away from Sidious willingly, or by force. I need to engage him sooner rather than later. He’s the key to ending this war, the only one with a chance at Sidious. We need him on our side. I need him...” Obi-Wan’s voice broke off, and he tried again. “I need him at my side.”

“Whatever,” Ahsoka said, too angry to keep arguing. “You two always just do whatever you want, anyway. I’ll be at the edge of the system waiting to come back for your body, or whatever. Com me when you’re dying.” She ended the transmission, and threw her comlink in her bag. She adjusted the strap over her shoulder and began walking faster towards her ship. 

_This was so kriffing unfair._

—

“I’m sorry, Barriss,” Obi-Wan said gently, watching the complex mix of emotions pass over her face with interest. _Relief-sadness-fear-regret._ “Ahsoka’s not here. I sent her off-planet when I realized who your passenger was.”

As Obi-Wan had been waiting at the landing pad for Barriss’s ship to arrive, he’d wondered to himself about her part in all of this. Studying her anxious posture now, it seemed like she was a willing participant of the plan, but was afraid of the consequences. _She was still a youngling._

“M-my passenger?” Barriss sounded nervous, her eyes widening as she kept her head facing straight forward. “I don’t—”

“It’s alright, Barriss, he knew I was coming,” Anakin said quietly from the top of the ramp and Obi-Wan’s head snapped up, looking intently at him. Anakin’s eyes seemed to glow from the shadows, and were fixed directly on Obi-Wan. “Get back on the ship and stay there, don’t come out.”

“Yes, Lord Vader,” she said quickly, bobbing her head in a quick bow to Obi-Wan and scampering past Anakin and away from them both, darting back inside the ship. The landing platform of the facility suddenly became very quiet as they looked at each other. Anakin slowly began walking down the ramp towards him.

Obi-Wan studied him, taking in every detail from his scuffed boots to his messy, curly hair, and came back down to focus on his tired face, the dark smudges under his eyes. Obi-Wan’s brain was having trouble processing that Anakin was really _present_ after so many months. 

Their bond was on fire, and it made a shiver go down Obi-Wan’s spine. 

The Force between them felt so thick and so charged, with the innate power of Anakin’s anger and the scope of Obi-Wan’s grief causing an invisible maelstrom. The ambient darkness lingering in the slave processing facility only compounded their strength. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but reach for Anakin’s mind and was pushed back hard.

“Hello, Lord Mendax. Good to see you in person.” Anakin’s tone was sarcastic, but his face was uncharacteristically blank as he rolled his cloak off his shoulders, setting his feet apart wide and reaching for his lightsaber. “It’s been awhile.”

Obi-Wan felt a sudden aching sense of emptiness as Anakin purposefully pulled all his power inside himself, attempting to sever and prevent the insistent pooling of their energy that happened whenever they were together. 

Presumably, he didn’t want Obi-Wan to be able to _steal and use his power_ during their fight. Obi-Wan thought wistfully about how much more powerful they both were when they _shared_ energy through the bond—when they worked together.

He watched Anakin’s cloak fall to the ground, staring at the black puddle of fabric for a long moment before looking back up. “Don’t call me that name, please. I am not that person, Anakin.”

Anakin snarled at the name and ignited his lightsaber. The strong, deep red of his blade still put out bright, radiant light. He raised his saber into an offensive position, his entire body tensed and ready to spring. “Anakin Skywalker is _dead!_ I am—”

“No, he isn’t, you aren’t!” Obi-Wan cut him off, making a sharp, dismissive gesture with his hand. He involuntarily took a step closer, despite the threat of the humming blade. His voice was insistent. “You’re right here. You’re still you, Anakin, I understand, please, listen to—”

“Stop.” Anakin pushed him back with the Force to the middle of the adjacent courtyard, and began to circle him, rotating his blade absently with his wrist. “At least have the respect to call me by my true name, Mendax. I _am_ Darth Vader.”

Obi-Wan turned at the same rate, keeping them face to face. He tried hard to make and maintain eye contact, but Anakin kept looking through and past him. _It made him want to…_ Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, I will not call you that. You didn’t _die_ , Anakin—you’re choosing this, and I understand why! You can be Anakin again, please come home, there is _nothing_ stopping you.”

Anakin just laughed and shook his head. He stopped and raised his blade into a Soresu guard, pointing his fingers and mocking Obi-Wan’s usual form as a taunt. He flicked the end of his blade. “There is no coming back from the things I’ve done, Mendax.”

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw, reluctantly pushing his cloak from his shoulders and reaching for his lightsaber to protect himself from the attack he knew was coming. “Stop calling me—”

“Mendax is who you _really_ are, so why not?” Anakin cut him off, and watched Obi-Wan’s hand reach for his hilt with a dark, satisfied smile. 

Obi-Wan stared at Anakin and held his lightsaber unlit for a long moment, feeling the cool weight in his palm. He reluctantly ignited on his blade, swinging it up into a defensive guard position and vowing loudly, “It’s not who I am, Anakin! I’m still Obi-Wan, I haven’t changed, the dark hasn’t stolen my _reason!”_

The blade of his lightsaber was a brighter shade of red than Anakin’s, with an underlying tinge of orange. The two reds mixed together in a smoldering radiance, casting strange reflections on their faces and the ground around, until it felt to Obi-Wan like red was all that he could see.

Anakin laughed without humor. “So, you admit it. I _know_ you haven’t changed—you’ve always _been_ Mendax, underneath, the whole time!” He abruptly charged forward, breaking out of his fake-Soresu guard, and switched immediately into his preferred, aggressive form of Djem So. The dark side curled around him, accelerating his attack.

Obi-Wan immediately moved to block, the force of Anakin’s blow pushing his blade back. He looked up at Anakin, now so close, and growled, “You know that’s not true!”

“It is true.” Anakin glared, and pushed away. He brought his blade around, attacking high. “You’ve _always_ been a liar, _always_ been manipulating me! You’ve _never_ trusted me like an equal.” Their blades danced together in a long-familiar pattern, as Anakin tried to batter his way through with strength, to wear Obi-Wan down. 

It was the only strategy that actually worked, and they both knew it. 

Obi-Wan began to breathe a little harder, pulling slightly on the dark side, just enough to move quickly in his own defense, and block Anakin's strong blows without near immediate fatigue. He passed over every opening to attack, withdrawing over and over, trying to get through to him. “Anakin… for _years_ I was your Master! For a long time we _weren’t_ equals, I was trying to guide and teach you. But then—” 

“I grew up, and you didn’t stop!” Anakin abruptly pulled away, his anger making his attacks too sloppy. He tried to control his breathing, but his words were full of too much emotion. “You kept treating me the same—like a youngling!” 

Obi-Wan scoffed, wiping his forehead with his sleeve, a smear of dust on white. “I noticed that you grew up, Anakin, believe me.”

Anakin glared at him, circling again, blade up. His cheeks were pink with exertion, and he was breathing hard. “Just because you _fucked_ me, doesn’t mean you treated me like an adult.”

Obi-Wan swallowed down the surge of arousal that came when Anakin’s melodic voice said _fucked_. He shook his head, trying to focus. “What are you talking about?”

Anakin glared, and twisted his wrist, flourishing his blade in frustration before pointing it back at Obi-Wan. “You never trusted me, never respected me or my power! You stole it, treated it like it was yours.” He attacked, swinging hard, striking repeatedly against Obi-Wan’s quick defense with hard blows. “It wasn’t yours! It was mine! You had no right!”

Obi-Wan huffed with frustration blocking low and then low again, moving as quickly as the dark side would allow. “I was doing what I thought was right— _you asked me to take care of you!”_

Anakin scoffed angrily, “You manipulated me into doing that in the first place!” He used the Force to shove Obi-Wan hard against the courtyard wall. 

Obi-Wan’s head smacked back, and he blinked, dazed, trying to process Anakin’s words before putting his guard cautiously back up. “What? How can you possibly—”

Anakin attacked, pressing forward until they were body-to-body, and he glowered, “I was vulnerable, and you made me ashamed!” 

Obi-Wan looked up at him with exasperation, feeling sweat trickle down his brow. He called on the strength from his frustration in the dark side, and pushed Anakin hard, making him stumble. 

Obi-Wan moved away quickly, and began to circle Anakin, his words becoming colder. “What was I supposed to do? You’d _slaughtered_ a village! _Murdered_ women and children!” Anakin’s face contorted with rage, and he lunged forward. Their blades connected, and Obi-Wan growled resentfully. “You fucked your assignment on your first mission! ”

“First of all,” Anakin sounded beyond offended, attacking aggressively, “We loved each other, so you don’t get to talk about Padmé like that!” He kicked Obi-Wan hard in the chest, and Obi-Wan fell back, gasping for air. Anakin swung his blade around, attacking while Obi-Wan was recovering. 

Obi-Wan managed the first block only with the assistance of the power of the dark side, and then regained his composure. Anakin’s voice was cutting. “Sidious told me the truth about that village, you know. I was doing _what I was born to do!_ You had no right to judge, when _your_ passivity was what _killed my mother!”_

_“I didn’t know_ about that then, Anakin!” Obi-Wan said back, curling his blade around in a frustrated loop before catching Anakin’s attack. His voice came out ice cold. “How could I possibly know? I was doing the best I could to handle your _atrocities_. You cannot possibly expect me to have acted differently with the information I had.”

_“With the information I had.”_ Anakin said in a mocking tone as he blushed, attacking again with increased ferocity. “Ignorance didn’t give you permission to steal my power!”

“I didn't even know that’s what was really happening! I was just trying to avoid _this exact outcome!”_ Obi-Wan gestured from Anakin’s red blade to his golden eyes. “I was trying to help you fall slowly, not get lost in the dark and serve someone corrupt! I was trying to—” 

Anakin cut him off again, talking loudly over him, pushing him back towards the wall again, his lightsaber dancing in a familiar pattern with additional roughness. “Who gave you the right to determine how fast I could come into my power? Who I chose to—” He stumbled over the word _serve_. “—Accept teaching from?”

“The Force gave me the right!” Obi-Wan explained desperately as he darted sideways and yielded more and more ground, moving toward the building doors and making Anakin have to pursue. “The Force told me to.”

“What?” Anakin looked at him skeptically, and abruptly ran forward, using an Ataru spin to swiftly get on the other side of Obi-Wan, blocking his retreat. He was breathing hard, his face flushed as Obi-Wan turned swiftly to face him, blade up. Anakin’s voice was almost breathy as he brought his lightsaber around, swinging at Obi-Wan’s weak side. “What are you even talking about.”

Obi-Wan blocked him, earnest and pleading. “Nineteen _years_ of dreams, Anakin. The Force gave them to me, told me to find you, keep you. Why did it do that, if you weren’t mine to—”

Anakin shook his head hard, his blade never pausing its relentless, exhausting routine. “I’m not _yours_. I don’t know why the Force did that, but that’s not an excuse! You should have realized! You should have noticed that you were getting stronger and I was staying the same.”

“I’m sorry!” Obi-Wan gasped, almost entirely focused on keeping up with the fight, keeping up with Anakin’s speed and ferocity. “I’m sorry that I didn’t notice. I’m more sorry than you can possibly understand.”

Anakin put all his strength into one more final strike, pushing all his frustration into the force of the blade. Obi-Wan grit his teeth, catching and holding the blow before sending Anakin backward with a push in the Force, desperate to breathe. 

Anakin glared at him, regaining his footing. “Saying sorry’s not good enough, Mendax!” He attacked again, drawn like a magnet toward Obi-Wan, his lightsaber seeking his body. “Tell me _why!_ Why didn’t you tell me about my mother, about Dooku, about the clones?” All of his questions were accompanied by crushing blows. 

“I… I didn’t know _how.”_ Obi-Wan said, genuinely at a loss for words as he defended himself, moving his lightsaber to take the impact of Anakin’s strikes with effort. He slipped away, yielding ground and gaining distance. “I was trying to _protect_ you, protect everybody but—I just wanted you to be _safe_.”

Anakin followed, his expression fierce, his eyes full of resentment. “No! You just wanted me to be blind, weak, and _loyal!”_ He tried a complex Makashi attack sequence, trying to piece through Obi-Wan’s consistently impenetrable Soresu defense, and glared when it failed. “I didn’t need your protection! I don’t! You’ve never trusted me to protect myself! Never trusted me with the truth!” He attacked again. 

Obi-Wan felt oddly dissociated, and as he fought he focused intently on Anakin’s form. His fighting was beautiful—he was almost a work of art, death made flesh—he fought like it was a dance, his whole body moving in a lethal routine that Obi-Wan recognized, had given him, had drilled into him over and over. 

That memory of peace and togetherness made him feel a surge of grief, and it made him furious. “It’s not like _Palpatine_ trusts you with the truth, trusts you enough to teach you properly, Anakin! He’s just trying to use you to become immortal! You’re _expendable_ to him, but _not to me.”_ Obi-Wan said, his tone desperate. He was sweating, exhausted. _He hadn’t slept well in months, he was so tired, so very tired._ He repeated himself, making a vow, “Not to me!”

Anakin shook his head like he was shaking off a fly, dismissing Obi-Wan’s words. “I’m not stupid! I figured it was something like that, and besides—it’s not the same with Sidious! _I don’t love him!_ He didn’t _fuck me_ into submission! He didn’t trick me into thinking that he loved me, even though he _didn’t!”_ Anakin’s voice was thick with anger and grief, his movements becoming sloppy. “You were supposed to be better, not the same, not worse!”

Obi-Wan felt like he was sinking, Anakin looked so vulnerable. Obi-Wan _needed_ to touch him, comfort him. He was so close but _so far away_. He tried to speak, gathering words as they continued to fight, blades meeting and crashing over and over, almost without thought. So many hours spent  sparring, they could fight with their eyes closed. 

Obi-Wan pulled back, swallowing, trying as hard as he could to share his deepest truth, the thing he’d stumbled over a thousand times. He spoke in a halting, insecure voice, “I… Anakin, I _do_ love you.” Anakin’s movements stuttered and then became more aggressive as he attacked again, ignoring Obi-Wan’s words like they’d been empty air.

Obi-Wan couldn’t stop now that he’d started, “Anakin, _please_ , I’ve _always_ loved you—for as long as you’ve been alive! All I have ever wanted in _life_ was to find you, protect you, _love_ you. You’re the only thing that’s ever really mattered!” He dropped his blade for a moment, his eyes seeking Anakin’s and finding them. He said it again, “I _love_ you, more than _anything.”_

An explosion of pain and longing detonated in the Force as Anakin momentarily lost control of his shields. Obi-Wan was almost overwhelmed by the realization of how much his words had been hurting Anakin.

_How could he have done this? How could he have made Anakin hurt this badly? Anakin’s happiness was his only goal in life, his only ambition. How could he have failed this badly? All he wanted was to keep Anakin safe—safe and free and happy._

Anakin’s face was crimson with rage, and his presence in the Force disappeared abruptly as he yanked it all back inside. He flourished his blade with a snarl, and attacked again, “Stop lying! Stop using _stupid_ words that _don’t mean anything_ to manipulate me. Your _lying_ words are worthless now, Mendax! Nothing you say changes the truth of what you did! You still _used_ me. At least Sidious is honest about it!” 

Obi-Wan shook his head fiercely, bringing his blade back up quickly to catch Anakin’s aggressive offensive strikes, “Anakin—”

Anakin groaned loudly with frustration, almost yelling, “Stop that! _I’m Darth Vader!_ That’s my name, _because I said so!_ Not because Sidious gave it to me!” He focused his attacks on Obi-Wan’s weak side again, battering at his defenses. “Why can’t you stop trying to control me? I get to pick my name! I’m not _Anakin_ , your kriffing slave! I’ve never really been Sidious’s, and I’ll never be anybody’s again. I get to choose! I belong to _me!”_

Obi-Wan’s defense held, pushing him back over and over. He looked desperately at Anakin, trying to make him understand, “Of _course_ you do! You’ve _always_ belonged to yourself.”

“No, I haven’t!” Anakin swung for his neck, and Obi-Wan caught the blow, his movements slowing fractionally with his exhaustion. Anakin noticed, and grinned a feral smile, attacking again, trying to capitalize on Obi-Wan’s fatigue. “I’ve belonged to Gardulla, Watto, _you_ , and Sidious! I’ve never been free a day in my life, _Master._ I’ve decided I’m free now, and you can’t take that from me!”

Obi-Wan tried to catch his breath, his muscles burning, the dark side flowing through him, powering his defense, keeping him alive. He was so tired, so hurt, so raw. “I don’t want to take it from you, I want you to be free, more than anything, Padawan!” The word slipped out with permission, and Obi-Wan cringed apologetically as Anakin’s shoulders rose, his face flooding red. 

“I’m not your Padawan!” He spat, attacking again, blade flashing as he desperately tried to wear Obi-Wan down enough to break his shields. His voice was equally desperate. “I’m so tired of this! I want to be free from you! I don’t even know _who you are!_ You say you haven't changed, but you have! The Obi-Wan who negotiated for rights would never conquer a planet. Who _are_ you, _Darth Mendax?_ What have you _done?”_ Anakin took a deep breath, his voice thick. “I just want to be _free.”_

_Who are you, Darth Mendax? What have you done?_

_I just want to be free_. 

Anakin’s words echoed in Obi-Wan’s brain, cutting him to the core. His blade dropped slightly in surprise as his mind went blank. All of his assumptions, plans, identity, everything—it felt like it was crashing down. There was a cascading realization, the words shaking through everything.

_Anakin was right. He had changed. Into Darth Mendax._

_How could he possibly have failed this badly, fallen this far, and not really noticed? It all had gone so horribly wrong, and he’d ruined everything up beyond repair._ _What had he done? He’d murdered more sentients in cold blood on Zygerria than Anakin ever had on Tatooine, if the collateral damage of the invasion counted—which it did._ _If Anakin’s deeds had been an atrocity, what had he done? Was it genocide?_ _All he’d wanted was to help._

_All he wanted now was to fix it._

_What would help Anakin be free? Help him move on, perhaps even kill Sidious, save the galaxy from tyranny and oppression? If he had proof that Obi-Wan had really meant it, truly loved him, wanted him to be free and happy and safe, even if it meant without Obi-Wan at his side? Especially if it meant without Obi-Wan, who had lost that privilege?_

_He knew that Anakin never believed words, would never, ever believe Obi-Wan’s words again. He needed deeds. What could Obi-Wan offer him? What could he do for him, give to him? What would make this right?_ _He’d never meant to hurt Anakin beyond repair._ _How could he let him go, let him be free, prove that he meant it? How could he give up control to Anakin completely, make him understand he was in charge, he was free to be the owner of his life?_

 _Anakin thought that Obi-Wan had stolen his life, killed his mother, used him without loving him. What would he think would be just and equal punishment for that?_ _Obi-Wan had conquered a planet, killed civilians, stolen their land, and destroyed their culture. He’d somehow acquired millions of men who shared his thoughts, followed his will without any conscious instruction._ _He was a tyrant too, what was the just and equal punishment for that?_

_Obi-Wan knew what he needed to do. It was time._ _He deserved it._

His eyes followed the movement of Anakin's blade closely, its familiar pattern from thousands of hours of sparring making it easy to predict what combination was next. Their blades crashed together—high, low, right, and then Obi-Wan hesitated, leaving his blade to the side, intentionally missing a block. 

Anakin’s blade went in straight through his stomach, the momentum of the swing cutting slightly upward, and Obi-Wan let out an incredulous breath.

It hurt more than he could have possibly imagined.

—

Vader looked with disbelief at the hilt of his lightsaber, pressed against Mendax, and turned off the blade immediately. His heart was pounding, and there was a rushing sound in his ears. There was enough blood coming from the wound to begin to stain Obi-Wan’s white tunic red. His blade must have caused too much internal damage to be fully cauterized.

Obi-Wan began to slump to the ground, and Anakin caught him. 

“Did you let me kill you?” Anakin’s voice was disbelieving and terrified. The Force was whispering to him about the seriousness of the injury; the living Force was beginning to slide away from Obi-Wan. Anakin sank with Obi-Wan, holding him on his lap. “Why?”

“You were the one trying to kill me,” Obi-Wan huffed a pained breath, his eyes squeezing closed for a moment, his hands clenching and releasing, his lightsaber falling to the ground and rolling away. “For those reasons, I think.”

“I didn’t actually want you to die!” Anakin realized, his voice growing thicker. He tightened his hold, looking at the wound with horror. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “I didn’t think...”

_What had he done?_

“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed, trying to smile at him, staring into his eyes for a long moment. “You never think things through.”

Anakin shook his head, mutely agreeing with him. Obi-Wan was looking up so intently at his face, drinking him in—like every detail mattered, every feature precious. His expression was fierce and adoring. Anakin realized then just how often he’d seen that expression before, for years, and he’d never truly understood it before. 

Ahsoka’s voice in his head, _Can’t you see?_

Obi-Wan’s hand came up shakily to cup Anakin’s face, his thumb stroking once along his cheekbone, his eyes intently following its path across his skin, his mouth smiling up at him so fondly, “Thank you, Anakin,” he whispered, his eyes flicking up to meet Anakin’s again, full of relief. “I deserve it… I’m glad it was you, Padawan… I do love you, loved,” he corrected himself, wincing slightly. “You, more than anything.”

Anakin instinctively pressed his head into Obi-Wan’s hand, horror rising farther as the hand slipped from his face, falling to lay limply by his side. Obi-Wan took a painful breath, his eyes sliding closed for a moment. Anakin’s voice was tight and disbelieving, he couldn’t stop asking, _“Why? Why did you do this?”_

“I deserved it,” Obi-Wan repeated as he opened his eyes again—his voice was quieter and seemed to take more effort. He sounded satisfied, like he’d finally done enough, and he’d finally made things right. “You needed me to, Anakin.” 

Obi-Wan said his name like it was his favorite word. _How had he never noticed?_

“No,” Anakin realized. He shook his head hard, squeezing him tighter. “I didn’t... I don’t… Obi-Wan, _Master_ , _please_ , I made so many mistakes, you can’t leave, I _need_ you!” 

Obi-Wan began to go limp in his arms. “You can’t help what you are, Anakin. You’re the Midichlor… you carry the Force wherever you go. You don’t need me, and I’m so sorry…”

“I do need you, I won’t let you—” Anakin’s voice cracked as he held him even tighter, feeling Obi-Wan’s life slip farther away. It was the worst sensation imaginable; it felt like part of himself was dying too. He realized it was intolerable, that he couldn’t allow it, wouldn’t allow it. _“You can’t!”_

He fell into the Force, and grabbed as hard as he could at Obi-Wan’s consciousness as Obi-Wan’s eyes slid closed, trying to capture it, bring it back, feed it as much of his energy as he could, build its strength, secure it. He pushed all the energy of his darkness as hard as he could inside Obi-Wan—sharing the magnitude of all his regret, his guilt, his shame, his love.

Anakin reached a shaky hand and pressed it hard against the bloody wound in Obi-Wan’s stomach. He closed his eyes and felt for the living Force around them, trying to steal life in order to feed into his healing, but the slave processing facility was so barren and so empty. 

The only living Force he could feel that was available was from himself, his heart. 

Anakin nodded as he made the decision and began to pull from his own reserve of life, his own living Force—it felt like the most natural thing in the world, the easiest and simplest action he’d ever taken. The energy flowed through his hands, into Obi-Wan’s body, like it was water. 

Anakin felt intuitively how very connected they were, how deeply the bond went. It went down to the core of who they were. He didn’t know how and he didn’t know why, but he pushed again as hard as he could, pulling as much emotion and life from himself as he could—sucking the heat from the air and the heat from his heart—all of his complex anger and desperate longing, denied craving and suppressed rage. 

It felt infinite, it felt instantaneous, and then it was over. He stopped, feeling slightly dizzy, but somehow absolutely certain that the wound had healed to the point that Obi-Wan was stable. 

_He would survive._

Anakin sat back, shocked, trying to understand what happened. It felt like he’d given half his heart away, but it somehow hadn’t made him any weaker. He actually felt stronger, more stable, like he’d halfway unlocked something rare and precious. 

It was so odd—shouldn’t he feel weaker, if he’d given part of himself away?

He numbly reached over and activated Obi-Wan’s comlink, punching in a familiar comcode by rote. It connected instantly, and he asked, voice rough, “Ahsoka?”

Ahsoka sounded aghast at hearing his voice on Obi-Wan’s com. _“Anakin?_ Where’s Obi-Wan? What did you do to him?!”

Anakin ran his eyes over Obi-Wan’s bloody tunic. He didn’t know what to say. “I… He’s stable. He needs a medevac. Come get him.”

“You hurt him!” Ahsoka’s voice was furious, and Anakin looked at the sky, trying to avoid his emotions flowing over— _now at the end, after it all, why would he cry now?_ Ahsoka’s livid tone made him feel the weight of what he’d done. “How dare you?”

“He let me, alright?” Anakin snapped, trying to shake the impulse to tears. ”He wanted to prove something, so he did.”

“What did he prove?” Anakin didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, and the silence drew out. He stared at Obi-Wan’s calm face, his closed eyes and relaxed forehead, the natural smile of his lips. _He was so perfect. How could he possibly love him? He didn’t deserve it._ “Anakin?”

His voice came out very flat and final. “Just come get him. You know where he is. He’s stable but still needs a bacta tank.” He stood sharply and turned, walking away numbly. He had to go, he couldn’t stay there for another moment. One more second and Anakin thought would combust with confusion, sorrow, rage. 

_It was intolerable, he had to go._

He’d hadn’t ended the transmission, and Ahsoka’s angry voice followed him out. It felt right, like he deserved it. “Anakin! How could you?! What did you _do?”_ Her voice grew more quiet as he drew further away. “Anakin? Are you still there? How dare you leave him! Hello? V-Vader? Please tell me, is he—”

Anakin left the room feeling empty. There was a raging silence in his head, his mouth was dry. He couldn’t process everything that had just happened. It was still too much, too shattering… _Obi-Wan really loved him, would die for him… He didn’t deserve that, who even was he? Anakin or Darth Vader?_

_Anakin belonged to Obi-Wan, could he go back to being him? No... There was no going back, after what he’d done... but Vader belonged to Sidious. He couldn’t be Vader either… He was free, and nobody’s._ _So, who was he? Both? Neither?_

_Who was he?_

Anakin climbed aboard his ship, sending Barriss to her cabin with a sharp gesture. She stared grey-faced at his expression and the blood on his hands, leaving quickly and without a word. Anakin numbly washed his hands in the ‘fresher—Obi-Wan’s blood was so red, and there was so much.  


He made for the cockpit, reaching out one last time in the Force. He felt Ahsoka’s furious desperation and Obi-Wan’s steady, peaceful rest. _He’d let him kill him, just to set him free. Obi-Wan loved him_. 

_They really were his family,_ he realized. _His family was larger than just his mom._ _He had to deserve them. He had to find out who he was so he could come back to them. Did any names belong only to him, and him alone? Who could he be?_

His sat for a long moment holding the controls, looking up at the stars. He remembered being a small boy, in a homemade pod, his anxious mother waiting in the stands—winning an impossible victory, the commentator’s voice shouting over the roar of the festival crowd. 

_It’s Skywalker!_

He nodded, and flipped a few switches and began take off, punching in coordinates with a numb sense of purpose. He knew who he was. He knew what he needed to do. 

He was _Skywalker_ , the _Hero With No Fear_ , and he needed to find a way to kill Darth Sidious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> It's upward from here. 
> 
> When people kept asking about rock bottom, it was hard to resist musing, "Well, Anakin is going to stab Obi-Wan to death with a symbolic penetrative stab wound for lex talionis, the law of equal return (and then bring him back with half his heart), that seems rock-bottom-y to me," so I am so glad I can finally talk about this chapter omfg!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I'm excited to be returning to the sexy part of the story soon, don't you worry. They've both grown up a bit so it should be touch less problematic :)


	20. Redress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, remember when this story was fun and/or sexy? Me neither. Let's get the boys back together, yeah? Some steps left to go :)

NEW REMULE / CORUSCANT

Early 19BBY

_Obi-Wan was looking out over a rocky canyon, two suns setting far in the distance. He could see for miles and miles. It was hauntingly beautiful—an austere type of beauty that comes purely from the shape of the land and the emptiness of the air, the majesty of the hollow carved between rock and sky. It was a wide, silent vista, washed in warm evening light._

_He turned, looking with concern at the mouth of what looked like a natural cavern in the rocky hill. The entrance was a gaping maw of darkness, almost uncannily devoid of light. It made the shadows beside it look washed out, almost grey. He squared his shoulders and walked into the strange night, beams of light from the setting suns accompanying him as he stepped over the threshold._

_The air felt different inside, as if he’d entered a different world. He heard the sound of dripping water, a hauntingly inexplicable noise in such a dry space. The suns’ dying light touched and curled around the ornate carvings on the walls, casting odd shadows before themselves decaying into darkness. The shining black stone of the altar seemed to consume light as it came into contact._

_Obi-Wan’s eyes fixed on a large, ornate silver knife buried in the rock. He began to move closer when suddenly two figures appeared behind the altar—Anakin was there, holding the arm of Darth Sidious, who was draped in a hooded black cloak, his face mostly in shadow except for a leering grin._

_Anakin looked soaking wet, vicious and triumphant, his eyes shining gold. He noticed Obi-Wan and his lips curled into a smile, his eyes filling with satisfaction. He opened his mouth to speak, and—_

Obi-Wan woke up suddenly, and then winced, his hand moving to his bandage on his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled, trying to move past the pain. It still hurt a distracting amount to move suddenly.

The dream went through his mind, and his eyes flew open. He felt a rush of exhilaration and confusion. The dream had changed, and Anakin hadn’t looked angry at him anymore. _But he’d left… He’d healed him and left… What did that mean? Did he want Obi-Wan in his life or not?_

Obi-Wan wanted more than anything to believe the change in the dream. 

It hadn’t even been a standard week since Anakin had technically killed him, and then somehow healed him from the catastrophic injury. Kix had been more than appalled at the location and extent of the damage, and confused about how Obi-Wan had survived, even with _that kriffing Force magic poodoo that you Jediise mess around with._

Obi-Wan had been in bacta for days. He’d only been removed hours ago, and had insisted on resting in his own room. He could still taste and smell the bacta, no matter how much he’d scrubbed. 

He stared at the ceiling, his mind a racing blur of thoughts. The changes in the dream made him feel both elated and chagrined. This time Anakin’s face had betrayed no hatred, and that felt so sweet. _Had he possibly fixed things? Had the outcome of their fight altered the future? Had what he’d dreamed before just been one of many possible futures? Had he been misled by his own anxiety about losing Anakin into losing Anakin?_

Alone in his bedroom, Obi-Wan exhaled hard with frustration. He’d fallen into the trap _again_ of assuming his dreams were infallible. He’d failed to remember that _dreams pass in time_ and that Obi-Wan should _focus on the here and now._ Yoda and Qui-Gon were probably cackling at him in the Force. He felt like a foolish youngling. _Always in motion, the future is_. 

The beginning of the dream had also changed—it had given him more information, but frustratingly not _quite_ enough. It was a beautiful sunset, but there were too many planets around binary stars, and so many of them were probably deserts. The cave was so small, and the galaxy so large. _His luck, it’d probably be on Tatooine._

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and reached for his comlink, ignoring the pain tugging at his stomach as he lifted his arm. He would have to tell Cody about the curse and his dreams, and ask him the best way to search the planet for caves. That would be a good first step. 

His hand froze halfway there before dropping. 

The bond had connected, and _he wasn’t alone_. An involuntary question slipped past his lips.

“Anakin?”

—

Anakin was staring hard at his datapad, seeing nothing. He had already read the Onderon briefing twice. The rebel cell against the Empire was large and well supplied, and would be a challenge to eliminate. 

_Did he even want to? Their king was…_

His mind slid away from the problem again, as it had a thousand times in the last few days. He couldn’t stop thinking about Obi-Wan, about their fight, about what he’d done. He felt such a confusing mix of emotions about what had happened. 

Sidious had punished Anakin for Obi-Wan’s survival with Force lightning, but had quickly stopped and moved on to punish Barriss for his failure instead. It was worse to watch him hurt a youngling than it was to be hurt himself. _He hated Palpatine for that, and would kill him, soon, so soon. He just had to figure out how..._

Barriss had barely survived his punishment, and was still recovering days later. She’d been so weak already—Anakin had scraped her living Force almost dry to heal Obi-Wan on Kadavo, without even noticing he’d done it. _She’d barely made it out alive, and it was all his fault_. 

It had been a blessing and curse that the bond had connected several times while Obi-Wan had been unconscious, suspended in bacta. Anakin had probably spent hours peacefully studying his resting face, and staring at his damaged body, hoping for answers.

The silence gave him only questions. 

_If Obi-Wan loved him, and had only ever wanted to help him, was Anakin allowed to need him, want his guidance? Could he be free and still follow Obi-Wan’s advice? If he acted like a slave, was he not still a slave?_

_Anakin needed his Master to guide him, but he didn’t want to have a Master. He was free, now. He needed to be free. He was playing a game with Sidious, and he wasn’t his slave. He wasn’t Obi-Wan’s slave either, not anymore. Or, not ever?_

_Had he ever been Obi-Wan’s slave at all? Obi-Wan has always let him say no. He’d never used violence to make Anakin obey, never used any kind of force except persuasion. Why then had he obeyed? Because he wanted to impress Obi-Wan, help him, belong to him? Because of his fear of disappointing him? Because of love?_

_Had he always been free with Obi-Wan, or always a slave? How could he have been both? How could he have been free if he’d had a Master?_

_What did it even mean to be free?_

“Anakin?”

Obi-Wan’s surprised voice broke the silence of the room, and Anakin panicked. _He wasn’t ready to talk yet!_ He yanked all of his presence in the Force inside of himself, making himself small—months of instinctive reaction causing him to vanish from Obi-Wan’s perception. 

Anakin looked over and exhaled hard with regret. Obi-Wan was staring at him, or rather at the place he’d been, looking like he’d been stabbed again. He looked devastated—so confused, so _hurt._

Anakin was frozen, and time stretched out. He could almost see the moment Obi-Wan accepted that he wasn’t a part of Anakin’s life, and the bleak resignation in his eyes made Anakin’s heart hurt. The Force ached with Obi-Wan’s loneliness, grief, and confusion. 

Obi-Wan swallowed and looked down. “I’m sorry... Vader.”

Hearing Sidious’s _name_ for him coming out of Obi-Wan’s mouth startled Anakin out of his panic, and pushed him into action. He took a deep breath and released his Force signature back into the room, letting his emotions of horror and regret spread and fill it as he burst out, “Don’t call me that!”

Obi-Wan looked over sharply, his eyes lighting up warily. They looked at each other for a long, awkward moment, and then Obi-Wan looked away. He began to speak slowly and quietly, as if not to spook a skittish animal. “You chose it though? I want you to be whoever you want to be. I thought your name was Vader now?”

Anakin shook his head, trying to communicate with his eyes how much he didn’t want that word to ever come out of Obi-Wan’s mouth again. He spoke firmly, “I’m not that person. You can… please call me Anakin, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked up hopefully before looking down again. Anakin swallowed, an ache in his chest—Obi-Wan looked so tentative, so cautious. His voice was still very quiet. “Not Mendax?”

“No, not Mendax,” Anakin sighed, getting up and pulling his chair across the room. Obi-Wan watched, looking hesitant and hopeful at Anakin’s approach. 

Anakin sat heavily near Obi-Wan’s bedside, studying his face. He needed to discuss what he’d realized during all those hours spent staring into the bacta tank. They needed to talk about things they hadn’t ever really talked about. _They really needed to talk._

He spoke carefully, “You’ve always been a liar, it’s just the kind of lies that changed… How big and how important. The war made you into Mendax. You’re still really Obi-Wan, who was always a liar.”

Obi-Wan frowned at him, as if trying to work out if his statement was good or bad. “Thank you, I think.”

Anakin continued, slightly uncomfortable but _needing_ to talk about this. He’d ignored it for so long, and it _needed_ to be addressed. “I know why you lied, before the war. You’d had sex dreams of me since I was born? While I was a youngling and a Padawan?”

Obi-Wan nodded once, looking miserable. “You were never a youngling in the dreams. I always saw the future. You were always... it was an adult that I _knew_ was you, you as a knight, somehow I knew it would be you but... I pretended it wasn’t. I pushed the dreams down, pushed them away, made myself forget them. I refused to believe it was you. I refused to believe it could ever be me...

He looked at Anakin earnestly. “I _hated_ them. I wanted to be a good Master, make you the best Jedi. Not because of the dreams, but because you’re a special person and I… I cared about you.”

Anakin thought about what he said, and clarified, “So you were lying to protect me from yourself.”

“I suppose, yes.” Obi-Wan shrugged helplessly and then winced. “I always tried to shield you from that part of me. That’s why I never let you into my mind. I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“It was,” Anakin agreed, and Obi-Wan looked relieved. Anakin looked at him for a long moment, and asked just to be sure, “You didn’t think about me that way when I was a Padawan? You hadn’t planned it, groomed me for it?”

“No!” Obi-Wan’s relieved look dropped into disgust, and he began to babble defensively. “I am a monster, but not… I don’t think about younglings like that! I thought I was teaching you the opposite, to _not_ to do it! You grew up, and I definitely… _noticed_ , but… as I told you at the beginning, I hadn’t thought I would ever touch you. I thought it was impossible, that I wouldn’t ever do that, and that you wouldn’t either…” He trailed off, still looking slightly horrified. “But then…” 

His words became slower and more serious, looking Anakin in the eye. “You asked me to take care of you and... I really thought I was doing it for you, helping you, and that you had consented willingly.” His brow furrowed, and his eyes dropped, sounding guilty. “Now… I don’t know if that’s even true.”

Anakin frowned at Obi-Wan’s self-contradiction. “What do you mean?”

“You might have been right… I might have just been doing it _for me_ , because I… I _wanted_ you once you’d… once you’d grown up into a man. I wanted you so badly, maybe…” Anakin’s face felt slightly warm, and he tried to ignore how the idea of Obi-Wan wanting him badly made him feel _so good._

Obi-Wan’s eyes studied his blush and then deliberately looked down at his hands, which clenched and released. “Maybe I did manipulate you into asking. I don’t trust myself, or my motivations anymore. It was not… it was _never_ on purpose, I didn’t consciously plan it or intentionally do it, but maybe I did it anyway. I’m so sorry that I failed you, Anakin. I should have done better, been better.”

Anakin hummed indecisively, pushing his hair off his forehead. “I think you were trying to be a good person.”

“I was, yes.” Obi-Wan laughed sadly, his eyes tracking Anakin’s hand as it moved through his hair, and then returned to make earnest eye contact. “I thought I was trying to do the right thing. I thought I was trying to help.”

“It went so wrong.” Anakin stared at the spot where his lightsaber had gone through Obi-Wan’s stomach, before looking away. He shifted in this chair, trying to get more comfortable. “How did it go so wrong?” 

Obi-Wan exhaled hard, voice full of regret. “I was trying to help, but I was selfish too. Selfish and arrogant. The dark side is a trap for the selfish and arrogant, Anakin. It warps you, makes you see the world wrong, in your own image. It made me think I could _and therefore should_ control the world. It made me try to single-handedly defend you and the clones, and not ask for help. I should have told you, I know that now.”

“I think I understand.” Anakin said quietly. “I _know_ I’m not good at it usually…” He laughed ruefully and Obi-Wan tipped his head to the side in an expression of curiosity so cute that Anakin had to look away. He finished quickly, “I _completely_ stopped being able to think about the consequences. The only thing that mattered was how I felt. What I thought was right and just. It didn’t matter who got hurt.”

“Exactly.” Obi-Wan shifted and winced. “You’d lost perspective. I know I did. It made me cruel, and I didn’t notice, or maybe I just didn’t care. I had always disdained Dooku for his cruelty, but I became what I despised.” 

Anakin nodded uncomfortably, trying to reconcile the magnitude of the consequences of his fall, and Obi-Wan’s fall. _All the Jedi dead… the Republic fallen… Darth Sidious with absolute power..._

Obi-Wan sighed, reaching a hand up with a wince. “Speaking of _despised,_ I need to give you Solon’s holocron. He insists it’s almost time to break the curse, and demands that he be given to you.” The holocron smacked into Obi-Wan’s palm, and he held it out, offering it to Anakin. 

Anakin looked at it for a long moment before taking it, wrinkling his nose at it and throwing it carelessly toward his bed. “I’ll talk to Darth Sleemo.”

Obi-Wan smiled fondly at his casual treatment of a probably _invaluable_ object, and Anakin’s eyes flicked down his mouth. He realized that he’d instinctively smiled back, mirroring Obi-Wan’s expression. 

They looked at each other in silence for a long moment before Obi-Wan coughed and looked away. “Thank you. I don’t trust him, but if the curse is real we _do_ need to break it. If he’s telling the truth, it might be a way to kill Palpatine, which would be a bonus.”

Anakin barked a laugh. “Yes, a small, little bonus just for us.”

Obi-Wan smirked slightly before his face turned pensive, his eyes fixing absently on the spot where Anakin had tossed the holocron. “Solon did give me my lightsaber crystal, so I owe him a debt. I feel like we have to try to break the curse, to make me even.”

Anakin felt a dull sense of shame in his stomach. “You didn’t bleed yours yourself?”

“No,” Obi-Wan said gratefully. “Did you?”

Anakin nodded once and looked at his hands. “It was awful. It was the worst possible feeling. I was so angry, so sad. It felt like my heart and my mind were ripping apart. I channeled so much of the dark side it splintered me. It was right before we went to the Temple… I was so lost.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes were full of that fierce expression again, and it looked like he was holding himself back from reaching out for him. Anakin smiled a small tight smile, remaining still in his chair. He didn’t want to touch Obi-Wan, not yet, if ever, but missed his embrace nonetheless. 

Obi-Wan’s voice alone was so soothing. “I could feel how much you were hurting from the other side of the galaxy. I’m so sorry I hurt you that badly.”

Anakin shook his head. “I know you didn’t mean to, besides it wasn’t only you. It was the Jedi Order too.” He paused, involuntarily thinking of all the still bodies on the floor of the Temple. He still felt righteous satisfaction mixed in with his regret. 

“I know,” Obi-Wan agreed quietly. It was quiet for a long moment. 

“I don’t actually blame you for Zygerria,” Anakin said suddenly, looking back up into Obi-Wan’ eyes, a hint of guilt underlying his voice. “I don’t think killing all those slavers quickly was cruel. I wish I’d been there. I think you did the right thing. ”

“I…” Obi-Wan cut himself off before he kept talking, and he suddenly blushed. His hands anxiously smoothed his covers. His face was almost blank, but _not quite—_ his cheeks were pink.

“What?” Anakin examined his face, and Obi-Wan just shook his head. Anakin frowned at him, his tone growing more exasperated. “What?”

Obi-Wan looked at him for a long moment before losing his nerve and breaking eye contact. “Nothing.”

“Fine,” Anakin sighed, deciding to let it go. “Tell me later.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, but it wasn’t particularly uncomfortable. The Force around them slowly settled, their minds brushing up against each other fleetingly and retreating, redefining the limits of who they were within the bond. 

The silence was oddly healing. It felt so good just to be nearby, just to feel each other in Force. Touching even the edges of Obi-Wan’s mind felt to Anakin like the first drink of water since he’d bled his crystal, his first breath of clean air. He felt more like himself, like he had an essential piece returned.

_Was it alright for him to need Obi-Wan? Was he free or not? He wanted Obi-Wan to tell him what to do, more than anything…_

Anakin blinked, and Obi-Wan was gone. He stared at the place where he’d been, wondering if he should have touched him. 

_Not yet_.

—

THE NEGOTIATOR

Ahsoka had been doing repetitions of the basic kata of the first form of lightsaber combat for hours, drilling herself on the essential positions over and over, her muscles shaking with exhaustion. Form I was called the Determination Form, and that’s exactly what she was practicing. She was pushing herself to the edge of her capacity, exhausting her muscles to grow stronger. 

It felt good. 

She liked being tired. It made all her problems seem further away. She scowled at the far wall when she felt in the Force as her _second_ largest problem walked in slowly. His footsteps were light, but her predator senses could have heard his shuffling and heavy breathing even if she’d been Force-blind. 

“You’re still on bed-rest. You shouldn’t be moving around.” She glared over her shoulder, not pausing her movement. 

Obi-Wan looked at her apologetically, “Boil told me you were doing katas. I wanted to come see you. We need to talk.”

Ahsoka turned her head away, continuing her slow progress through the end of her routine, turning slowly and making sure to hold her spine vertically and not slump over just because of her emotions. “I’m still mad at you. I am allowed to be mad.” 

There was a pained sigh from behind her as Obi-Wan sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. She could feel his evaluating stare at her technique and wanted to scowl again. “I know. You have every right to be mad. I am sorry. I’ll never do it again.” 

Ahsoka scoffed angrily. “I don’t believe you. If you see a chance to sacrifice yourself you’ll always jump for it.” She shot him a look, quickly taking an inventory of his pale face and sweaty skin. It only made her more irritated. “Why are you even out of bed? You really have a death wish.”

He shook his head, “Not anymore, Ahsoka. I understand where it was coming from, and I’m dealing with it.”

She rolled her eyes, returning with deliberate slowness to the end of her kata and taking a beat before extinguishing her saber and walking over. “You’re _dealing_ with it?” 

Obi-Wan nodded, “I’m meditating again.” 

Ahsoka dropped to the ground next to him, summoning her bottle of water with the Force, daring Obi-Wan to make a comment about frivolity, but none came. 

She gave him a sideways look. “Good, I guess. You need to keep a regular practice, or you’ll go crazy again. I left you alone for five minutes to go rescue slaves, and you conquered a planet _the bad way, and then kept doing bad stuff!”_ She took a long drink and then offered it to him. He shook his head so she capped it and tossed it. “Then you decide to kill yourself because you finally felt bad about it or something. Everything you’ve done since you went _full-Sith-y_ has been completely ridiculous! You should have talked to me. What you did to me on Kadavo was garbage and you know it.”

“I do know it. The whole galaxy is garbage now, and it’s at least partly my fault.” Obi-Wan gave her a guilty look that she had no patience for whatsoever.

“Well…” She crossed her arms. “What are you going to do about it?”

Obi-Wan sounded uncomfortable. “I don’t know. The taxes on CorpSec and the proscription list… It all made me one of the wealthiest men in the galaxy. I can barely explain how wealthy Remule is, and the clones keep voting to give me more power. The treasury… It’s basically all mine.”

Ahsoka gave him a stern look. “It shouldn’t be.” 

“I know!” Obi-Wan said defensively, raising his hands. He adjusted his position slightly to get more comfortable, and let out a pained huff that Ahsoka ignored. He asked seriously, “What do you think we should do with it?”

_She’d talked to Cody and the other Councillors about this already, a hundred times, even before the expansion into the CorpSec had happened, whenever Obi-Wan was busy. She knew exactly what they wanted, what she wanted. She even already knew what Obi-Wan wanted to happen. She knew what he needed to hear._

“You should give it all back. It’s not yours.”

“I can’t.” Obi-Wan shot her a look, sounding uncertain. “The whole point of proscription is that the original owner is dead. I _can’t_ give it back to them.”

She scoffed again. “It was the Corporate Sector. Nobody there was the original owner. All that wealth was stolen, but not by you. Give it back to the real original owner. Cancel all the debts. Set people free. _”_

“I can do that.” He sounded relieved, as if she’d given him permission to do what he already wanted to do. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

They sat in silence for another moment longer. “I’m really extremely sorry, Ahsoka. I wasn’t thinking clearly. What you had to do wasn’t fair. Thank you for picking me up and taking me to the healers. I owe you one.”

“You owe me so many more than one,” Ahsoka laughed. “How about you make it up to me by making every person who you free a Remulan citizen. That’s the right way to spread an Empire, by the way, not killing people and taking their stuff.”

“What?” Obi-Wan laughed. “You want what?” 

“You heard me,” she laughed back. “You owe me _more than one!_ It’s a good idea. Cody thinks that if you make every freed person a citizen and you give them rights, and when those rights are violated, you have an excuse to protect them.”

“So, cancelling debts and citizenship creep is the correct way to make an Empire? And also a way to say sorry to my not-Padawan?”

Ahsoka smiled slightly at him. “It’s a start.”

—

THE NEGOTIATOR / IMPERIAL SHUTTLE

Obi-Wan was so completely, utterly exhausted by his efforts to work while still healing. The blockade had to be inspected, but it was so hard to move around. He needed _sleep_ —his mind lingered in the place between sleeping and waking, trying desperately to pull himself back down into the black, away from consciousness. 

He was so tired— _why was he waking?_

A sudden pulse of adrenaline made his heart pound and his eyes jerk open, his breath caught and his muscles tensed, sending a shockwave of pain from his stomach to his brain. It didn’t matter, it didn’t register—his mind was stuck in a loop of _Anakin, Anakin, Anakin!_

The bond was connected, space had folded, the Force had given him a gift. 

Obi-Wan held his breath and studied Anakin’s face cautiously, checking to see if he was awake or asleep. He seemed to be unconscious and unaware of Obi-Wan’s presence, so Obi-Wan allowed his gaze to linger a little too long on all his favorite places—Anakin’s pink lips, his curls, his long eyelashes, his scar... 

Asleep, his face neutral and peaceful, Anakin was so vulnerable, so open, so _beautiful_. 

They weren’t touching, but rather laying on their sides, face-to-face. Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked down and back up, dragging along the length and shape of Anakin’s body, instinctively measuring the inches between them, feeling a strong pull to close the gap, press himself close, push himself on top, taste his mouth, and lose himself in the warmth and comfort of _Anakin_. 

He took a deep breath and pushed backward instead, sliding towards the wall in his narrow bed on the Negotiator. Obi-Wan knew it was deeply inappropriate for him to watch Anakin sleep, invade his privacy and violate his personal space— _he knew that._

He let his head rest on the pillow, trying to go back to sleep. His eyes kept opening, though, and kept insistently looking. He _couldn’t_ look away; it was impossible—Anakin’s eyes were beginning to flick more rapidly beneath his eyelids, his breathing becoming increasingly unsteady. He was getting trapped in his mind, in a nightmare, suffering alone. 

_Should Obi-Wan wake him? What was the right thing to do? Anakin didn’t need Obi-Wan to rescue him…_ Obi-Wan fingers brushed the bandages on his still healing stomach. 

Anakin suddenly made a much louder noise, his whole body twitching, turning abruptly onto his back. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes closed, attempting to focus on his breathing, _in through the nose, hold, out through the mouth, in through the nose, hold, out through the_ —

“No!” Anakin muttered in his sleep. “Don’t, please! No...”

It felt like something cracked, and Obi-Wan couldn’t take it anymore. He reached out first with his mind, brushing up against the ragged edges of Anakin’s dreaming consciousness, trying to soothe the storm. It felt like Anakin’s mind reached out and grabbed Obi-Wan, pulling him in hard, clinging to it so desperately that it felt like a physical tug on his body.

Obi-Wan let himself slide slightly closer again, away from the wall, sending Anakin a wave of calm and peace, as best he could, through the Force. Anakin rolled over toward him, seeking his body, apparently still mostly asleep. Obi-Wan huffed out a surprised, pained breath as Anakin threw an arm over his stomach, pushing him down and curling up on his chest, and that little hurt noise seemed to wake Anakin up slightly. 

“Sorry, Master,” he said drowsily, burying his head against Obi-Wan’s neck with a satisfied hum. “I thought you’d left.” Obi-Wan blinked uncertainly at him, and then smiled softly when the next noise that came out of Anakin was a small snore. Anakin’s muscles had relaxed, his nightmares seemed to be gone. 

Both of their breathing began to return to normal. 

Obi-Wan gathered Anakin as close as he dared, smelling his hair and feeling a spike of intense emotion at its intimate, precious familiarity. _He smelled like home._ Anakin stirred on his chest, and Obi-Wan stroked his back gently, calming him back down. Anakin grumbled and rubbed his cheek against Obi-Wan’s chest, snuggling in closer.

Obi-Wan held him guiltily for another few minutes, waiting for the bond to fail, and Anakin to disappear, leaving him alone. He let his attention fall into his body, noticing all the places where they were touching, appreciating the feeling of Anakin’s hot breath on his neck. 

He instinctively began pacing his breathing with Anakin’s, and slowly, without realizing, slipped into a deep, restful sleep—Anakin still cradled in his arms.

—

NAR BO SHOLLA

Rex looked up and down the street. It was quiet, but almost too quiet. His instincts were going haywire that something was about to go wrong. He didn’t have bad instincts, either. 

He was missing something.

“Commander?” He spoke quietly into his com. “Do you sense anything unusual?”

Tano walked up next to him, and he jumped. _She was always too quiet and too fast_. She looked at him skeptically and sighed. “No, Rex. I promised I would tell you if I do.”

“I know, sir, you’ve said so,” Rex acknowledged, looking up and down the street again. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“This, and every other stop we’ve made on the tour, Rex,” Tano laughed, punching him on the shoulder. “I’ve been fine so far!”

“Six assassination attempts, sir,” Rex’s tone was flat, his eyes scanning the street. He didn’t like this mission through Hutt Space. The Hutts didn’t want them here, but were afraid to stop them directly. So it had been an odd mixture of mercenaries and other bounty hunters, who had a habit of popping up in strange places and at unusual times.

“Five,” Tano raised a finger, forestalling Rex’s complaints. “The other time I was in the crossfire between rival gangs, but it wasn’t aimed at me, so it cannot be considered an assassination attempt—just bad timing.”

“Fine, sir,” Rex said through gritted teeth. “Five. Which is approximately five _or six_ too many! This whole tour is irresponsible, Commander.” 

Tano gave him a weary look. “We’ve been over this, Rex.”

“I’m still not convinced,” Rex grumbled. “It is wildly irresponsible.” He considered for a moment just how many powerful people wanted to kill her just for being the apprentice of General Kenobi, let alone the people who wanted to use her death for revenge against Remule for _destabilizing the entire galactic economy_ in the way they had with their program of debt cancellations for inhabitants of the planets in Hutt Space and the Outer Rim.

It had been _unexpectedly_ problematic when half the population of certain planets had their debts suddenly cleared, and the other half, who owed credits to corporations _not_ under Remulan control, still were expected to pay. _Strangely enough,_ they didn’t feel like they needed to pay, if their neighbors didn’t have to pay. _Strangely enough,_ those still in debt wanted to be Remulan citizens, with all the rights thereof, just like those who’d been freed—or even more so, and were flooding the embassies with requests, and immigrants flooding in waves to the planet where debts were forgiven and slaves freed on arrival. 

It was chaos. 

Every planet in Hutt Space was currently undergoing some level of destabilization. As representatives of the Remulan Legions, they did their best to build small garrisons to protect those Remulans who asked for their protection, and used the garrisons to employ new citizens wherever they could, spreading some credits around. The local governments hadn’t been _especially_ thrilled, but what were they going to do? Fight them off? All of them, everywhere?

So, many of the former 501st were advancing with Commander Tano through Hutt Space overseeing the debt and citizenship initiative, slowly advancing the _cause of freedom and justice_ , or whatever Kenobi said in his speeches. Rex just didn’t think that it was a good enough reason that the Commander should be on the street on a dangerous Hutt planet. 

She should be back on Kadavo, where it was safe. _She was far, far too exposed on the street like this!_

“I have lightsabers, Rex,” Tano said with a sigh, probably sensing his roiling indignation. “I really can defend myself.”

“I know that,” Rex said defensively. 

She bumped into his arm with her shoulder. “Then why are you so stressed?”

“This is a dangerous part of the galaxy, sir. I don’t want your million-odd enemies to get a clean shot at you.” Rex grumbled, “It only takes one, you know, and you’re not in armor.”

“I know, but armor on me sends the wrong signal. This is not an invasion, but a goodwill tour.” Tano fiddled with Kenobi’s lightsaber. “You _know_ I was trained to sense blaster bolts coming—you’ve seen me fight in a _war,_ Rex. You know I can handle myself against a couple of odd bounty hunters, if they decide to pop out. I can and will defend myself.”

“I know, I know,” Rex said, running a hand through his short hair and then jamming on his bucket. “Stay safe in there, Commander.”

“I’m just talking to some locals about what it really means to be a Jedi!” Tano laughed. “I’m teaching younglings how to meditate. I won’t need to worry about safety.”

Many hours later, after Rex had managed to only say “I told you so” _one time_ , Tano agreed, “This might actually be a little more dangerous than I’d previously been willing to admit.”

“Thank you,” Rex said, relieved. “Are you going back to New Remule? Kadavo?”

“Obviously not,” the Commander laughed. “I just think we might need a few more men for our goodwill tour.”

—

CORUSCANT / NEW REMULE

The stack of datapads on his left was getting too tall, and threatened to fall over. Anakin stopped the slide and then frowned at the desk, splitting the left stack in half and attempting to fit two piles where there really was only room for one. 

Anakin metally cataloging all the stacks. In the weeks since he’d visited Onderon on Sidious’s orders, he’d been making a lot of plans. He’d blown up all the rebel facilities on Onderon, but had also killed the corrupt king and reinstated the one who had ruled more justly before the Clones Wars.

Sidious had mixed feelings about his actions. 

Anakin didn’t care. The people of Onderon knew that General Skywalker had freed their planet, just a little late. They were happier members of the Empire—or so he argued to Sidious between electrocutions. 

The datapads surrounding him were analyses of all the different planets in the Empire with rebel activity, and had accompanying stacks of notes about what General Skywalker could do for them. It had become a soothing hobby, in between his Sidious-assigned missions and training the younglings. 

Anakin’s mind kept flicking back to Obi-Wan—he vaguely remembered snuggling into his chest, smelling his neck, thinking they fit so perfectly together… he remembered what it felt like when _Obi-Wan slid inside him so carefully and then fucked him hard, his cock sinking deeper and deeper, making him take it all and..._

“You’re projecting.” Obi-Wan’s slightly strained voice broke the silence. 

Anakin looked up sharply and his eyes widened. He hadn't noticed the bond, or the small fact that Obi-Wan was naked, dripping wet, covered in soap, standing in the middle of his bedroom. His eyes got stuck on Obi-Wan’s wet cock. It was getting harder. He swallowed, looking back up to Obi-Wan’s face. “Am I?”

“Yes, you are.” Obi-Wan gave him an incredulous look and shook his head, turning away slightly and putting his hair back under an unseen showerhead. “I’m sorry, just let me rinse off.” 

Anakin sat back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankle and folding his arms, watching the show. Obi-Wan blushed at his observation, and Anakin felt a spike of arousal at the pink of his cheeks. 

A hundred images flashed through his mind, _Obi-Wan’s flushed face above him, or behind him, making eye contact in the ‘fresher mirror, kissing Anakin’s neck, fucking up into him fast and hard_... 

“Stop it,” Obi-Wan sounded stressed, moving faster. “I’m almost done.”

Anakin’s eyes were drawn back down to Obi-Wan’s bare cock, watching it twitch and lengthen the longer he looked, growing flushed and thick. _He suddenly wanted very badly for Obi-Wan to fuck his mouth or his ass, he didn’t care which, just wanted him inside..._

“Stop projecting! It’s making me…” Obi-Wan’s voice was even more stressed, almost desperate. “Please stop.”

Anakin tossed his datapad to his desk and stood up, walking almost involuntarily towards Obi-Wan. “I can’t stop.”

“You can.” Obi-Wan shot a glare, and then looked alarmed by his approach. “I know full well that you can.”

Anakin came even closer, giving Obi-Wan a small, mischievous smile that made Obi-Wan’s eyes widen. “I don’t want to stop.” He realized with all his heart that he really didn’t. _He didn’t actually want to have sex, but he needed to do this. He needed to be closer._

He approached nearer and nearer until he was probably standing in the shower with Obi-Wan, but without touching, he stayed dry. _He wasn’t really there unless Obi-Wan touched him, so he’d be careful not to let him._

Obi-Wan’s eyes were searching, and his hands twitched but didn't rise. “May I… May I _please_ touch you?”

“No,” Anakin shook his head. “I don’t want you to.”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan agreed, looking so confused. “Why are you so close to me?” Anakin really was right in front of him, mere inches away from Obi-Wan’s hard cock. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes were flicking between his, and his pupils were blown. “May I…” His hand moved to his cock, almost touching it, looking into Anakin’s eyes desperately. “I need to, Anakin, please.”

Anakin leaned closer, still not touching him, putting his mouth next to Obi-Wan’s ear. He smiled as Obi-Wan’s unsteady breathing hitched at his proximity. He spoke very quietly. “Please, _Master,_ I want to watch.”

Obi-Wan groaned at his words, his hand immediately moving to stroke his wet cock. He spoke in a feverish undertone, “Force, _thank you_.” His hand began moving quickly and he let out a shaky breath. “ _Anakin…_ I miss you so much.”

Anakin hummed happily, moving his head back to look at Obi-Wan’s face curiously. “Do you? Have you thought of me like this before?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan admitted, blushing spreading up to his ears and down his throat. He was staring at Anakin’s mouth, his hand moving quickly. “Of course I have.”

Anakin smiled at the color of his blush, his voice teasing. He leaned close again, whispering conspiratorially, “More than once?”

“Yes, Anakin.” Obi-Wan panted, exasperated. “More than once.”

Anakin moved his head back, making eye contact, pouring his desire into the bond, quickly showing Obi-Wan all the memories of the times he’d touched himself and pretended it was Obi-Wan’s fingers, Obi-Wan’s cock. “I thought about you too…”

Obi-Wan’s eyes closed as he groaned, his hand stopping for a moment, almost swaying at the strength of their combined desire. His eyes opened, and his expression was dark and intent as his hand began to move again, faster now, his wrist twisting. _“Anakin…”_

Anakin watched his hand and confessed, “Even when I hated you, I never stopped wanting you.”

Something vulnerable flashed in Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Really? I… I missed you so much, Anakin, it hurt. I still miss you. Everyday, all the time, I miss you.” 

The words made Anakin ache, his cock was so full—his Master was so close to coming, and it was because of _him._ It felt so good to know that Obi-Wan had thought about him, touched himself imagining him.

Anakin sunk to his knees.

Obi-Wan stuttered in a disbelieving voice, “W-What are you doing?” 

Anakin stayed far enough back to not touch him, looking up at Obi-Wan, eyes wide. He bit on his lip for a moment before murmuring, “I miss you too, Obi-Wan. I miss how you taste, I need it, will you come in my mouth, please, _Master?”_

Obi-Wan made a noise deep in his throat, the rhythm of his hand stuttering for a moment. He was so hard, he looked so close. He shook his head incredulously and muttered, “Force, the things you say, Anakin.”

Anakin smiled up at him, and shrugged. 

Obi-Wan stared into his eyes, his hand picking up the fast pace. He spoke in a low voice, “Show me your tongue.” Anakin obediently opened his mouth, relaxing his jaw and sticking out his tongue. Their eye contact was unbroken, and Obi-Wan groaned. “Thank you, love, you’re perfect, so perfect, Anakin…” He came almost immediately, his eyes fluttering shut as his come coated Anakin’s lips and open mouth, spilling on his tongue. 

Anakin moaned at the taste, eagerly taking it all. After Obi-Wan had finished, Anakin licked his lips and wiped his face, sucking on his fingers too. Obi-Wan made a noise at that, and it pulled Anakin forward almost absently. As Obi-Wan noticed his approach, he let out a surprised breath, his hand touching Anakin’s hair—not sure whether to keep him away or pull him closer. At his touch, Anakin felt hot water begin to pour over his head.

He ignored it, and gently licked the slit of Obi-Wan’s cock, cleaning him up, needing to get it all. Obi-Wan‘s grip on his hair tightened as Anakin’s mouth touched his cock—he sent a wave of affection and appreciation through the bond to Anakin at the beads of water in his eyelashes, his soaked curls, and how the thin, wet fabric of his shirt spread over his broad shoulders.

The Force curled around them lazily, their bond thick and charged. They were united in some deep, essential way, and Anakin felt so anchored and safe. Obi-Wan was looking down at him, the same intense look on his face that Anakin understood now. _Obi-Wan loved him, loved him more than life._

Anakin pulled back, back in his dry room, and licked his lips again. He felt himself beginning to smile, wider and wider, until he beamed up at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s pleasure-soaked, incredulous thoughts floated across the bond into Anakin’s mind. 

_Anakin was so perfect, so beautiful... Why did he let him do this?... He doesn't deserve it._

Obi-Wan swallowed and looked like he was mustering courage. Anakin watched him fondly, hopeful for what would follow. Obi-Wan sounded anxious. “Anakin, I—"

He vanished, and left Anakin wet, kneeling, and alone in his room. He wanted to punch the wall. This was _intolerable_. The bond was a _curse_. 

Anakin absently licked his lips again, his eyes closing as he was calmed by the familiar, comforting taste of his Master’s come. The Force seemed to be singing, celebrating—it was always weirdly joyous whenever either of them came.

_Maybe that was really why they did it—maybe the Force did guide them here. Why else would it feel like this? Why did the Force want them to fuck?_

Anakin flushed, aching at the thought. He was already so hard from watching Obi-Wan touch himself, hearing Obi-Wan’s aroused, accented voice murmuring praise as he came. He palmed his hard cock and sighed with relief at the pressure, feeling himself already so close to coming. 

He smiled again, a hand slipping inside his pants against the skin, grasping and stroking himself gently. 

Maybe the bond wasn’t _all_ bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After last chapter's emotional fireworks, this one was a little more relaxed. On with the finale arc! :)
> 
> I appreciate so much the support this fic has gotten, and am so glad to be finally rounding towards the home stretch. Thank you, your comments, kudos, messages, just reading, everything, has made it worth it and possible. Thank you <3


	21. Reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!!

CORUSCANT

19BBY

Anakin stared at the recording of a news conference, but for once he was not focused on Obi-Wan. His eyes were fixed on the image of Ahsoka, who was standing directly behind Obi-Wan and to the left. _Had she gotten taller? It’d only been months, how could she possibly grow this fast?_ He frowned at the top of her montrals and tried to measure them against Obi-Wan. _She was definitely taller_.

”We again deny any culpability,” Obi-Wan said, looking directly forward, his tone exasperated. “For the recent death of Gardulla and other senior members of the Hutt Families. The conflict appears to be internal to the Hutts, and is within their purview. We are not—”

The sound of an artificial cough made him pause the playback, and he looked over at his desk with an annoyed expression. “How do you keep doing that? I keep turning you off.”

“I’m aware,” Solon’s deep, austere voice still managed to be snide. “You are very powerful in the Force, Midichlor. You create a form of harmonic resonance around you, and it is powerful enough to wake me up. You are the one doing this.”

“That doesn’t seem like a real thing,” Anakin grumbled, raising a hand and trying to turn the holocron off again. “Harmonic resonance? That’s _kriffing poodoo.”_

“Will you stop trying to turn me off?” Solon looked affronted. “We need to talk!”

Anakin got up sharply and walked to his small conservator and pulled out a cold drink. “I _already_ told you that I decided I don’t want to talk to you without Obi-Wan around.”

“I’ve _already_ told all of this to him,” Solon groaned. “He doesn’t need to hear it twice.”

“I don’t trust you though,” Anakin shrugged, looking back at the frozen holo of Obi-Wan. “He should be here.”

“You two…” Solon huffed an exasperated breath, his hands raising in frustration. “You are the two most infuriating people I’ve ever had the misfortune to interact with in a thousand years! I understand that you are a dyad in the Force, but it should at least be possible to speak to you without having to listen to interminable whining about being separated. Just because you share midichlorians doesn’t mean you share a brain!”

“That was rude, but fine...” Anakin chugged his drink and sighed loudly. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Phenomenal, thank you.” Solon looked pained. “Will you have a seat, or are you going to stand for the duration?”

“I suppose I’ll sit.” Anakin shrugged loosely, dropping onto his bed and crossing his arms. 

Solon looked at him doubtfully for a long moment before asking, “What is the Force?”

Anakin laughed, annoyed. “You’re asking me? I thought you were supposed to be the one with the answers.”

It looked like Solon was grinding his teeth. “I need to gauge your level of understanding in order to proceed with the conversation, Midichlor.”

“Fine.” Anakin kicked off his boots and got more comfortable. “It’s an energy field that binds all of existence.”

Solon nodded franctionally. “Partially correct. The unifying Force, also called the Apeiron, is the energy field you referenced, and is the architecture of space-time. It is what creates and contains all matter. The living Force, also called the Anima, is the luminous vital energy that supports life of all forms, from the simplest plants to the most complex animals. Sentients produce a field called the Pneuma which is accessible by telepaths and is the location and material of your Force bond.”

“I knew all that,” Anakin scowled. “Obi-Wan told me that. I read about it for class.” 

“Fantastic,” Solon said slowly, and emphatically. “Moving on, then. Do you understand how you access this energy?”

“Midichlorians?” Anakin guessed. “I have a lot of those.”

“You do,” Solon said dryly. “Yes. The energy you use to interact with the Force is pulled from your body as a vessel for the living Force. That’s why Mendax’s hair turned gray—because he was trying to channel too much energy through his body, and it made him decay slightly. With the additional midichlorians you’d so _generously bestowed_ upon him, he was able to avoid further disfiguration. Because of the nature of your birth, you possess the capacity to channel much more energy than other beings.”

“That sounds… reasonable?” Anakin thought it through. “What’s the point? What does this—”

“Will you have patience?” Solon cut him off, and then sighed. “Perhaps you really _don’t_ need to understand what you need to do, only the specific instructions for your objectives.”

“Give me a to-do list,” Anakin nodded. “I don’t care about metaphysics.”

“Fine,” Solon appeared to be thinking. “In the center of the civilized galaxy, there is a pool of a substance that is neither liquid, nor solid, nor gaseous. It is a type of Force condensate, emotional energy turned into matter by the crushing pressure of the suffering of all the galaxy’s sentients. It is called the Wellspring, and is impossible for all mortals _except you_ to touch.”

“Midichlorian thing?” Anakin asked dryly.

“Yes,” Solon nodded reluctantly. _“Midichlorian thing.”_

“Where is it? Why do I need to go there?”

Solon gave him a measuring look. “The Wellspring is located deep at the heart of old Coruscant, directly under the Jedi Temple. The ancient Sith built a shrine, fascinated by the pull of the dark side. The Jedi Temple was built above it to shield the galaxy and to contain its pollution with their inherent light.” Solon scoffed. “All it achieved was a gradual dimming of their light, but that is beside the point.”

Anakin shifted to lean back against the wall, giving Solon a flat look. “So there’s a dark side pool underneath the Temple, and I have to go there?”

“Yes,” Solon matched his tone. _“You have to go there._ Its power is enough to open a door into the World Between Worlds, the Netherworld of Unbeing.”

“Sounds spooky.”

Solon ignored his commentary. “It is a collection of doors and pathways, connecting all of time and space, linking all moments together. It is a ribbon across all reality. Actions taken there will cascade into every piece of the universe, and impact the Force as a whole, not the Force in moments. It is total reality, the most real place.”

“Neat.”

“Yes, it is _neat.”_ Solon sighed. “If you enter the Wellspring while your bond with the Sithari is active, and if he is at the altar grown from stolen Force condensate, you will be able to remove the cursed knife that is leeching the energy away from the Wellspring, and release the energy trapped in the altar. You will be able to heal Bane’s tear in the World Between Worlds with blood, and stitch the galaxy back together from center to edge.”

“So, my to-do list is to go to a spooky pool under the Jedi Temple, wait for Obi-Wan, find a knife, and kill Sidious, I assume?”

Solon had nodded along to every step of his itinerary. “Yes, Sidious’s blood on the altar is what is necessary to heal the tear. Some of yours will need to be given first, in order to free the knife.” 

Anakin tipped his head back, leaning it against the wall and trying to think things through. “Why would Sidious even come with me to the Wellspring?”

Solon smiled cruelly. “Sidious thinks that this is how he can access the power to become immortal. In actual fact, the World Between Worlds is the only place where he can be completely killed. Outside of space-time, his entire consciousness can be killed at once, and will not be able to transit to his contingency plans.”

“Fantastic,” Anakin nodded. “Don’t want him popping back up in fifty years or something absurd.”

“You will prevent that, if you succeed.” Solon nodded gravely. “If you succeed.”

—

KASHYYYK 

Quinlan Vos ducked behind a speeder, and pulled up his hood.

The Imperial patrols on Mid Rim planets like Kashyyyk were frequent and thorough. It was a very real risk that he could be stopped by Stormtroopers and asked for identification. There were too many for him to mind trick at once, and using the Force sloppily would only draw more attention. He had to be careful, and he had to be quiet.

Quinlan had spent the better part of the last four standard months since he’d helped Ahsoka liberate Kadavo following whispered leads across the galaxy, searching for Force sensitive younglings before the Empire swooped in and took them who-knows-where—probably nowhere good.

Kenobi insisted that Skywalker was in charge of the younglings’ training, but Quinlan didn’t find that terribly reassuring. It seemed clear to him that it was preferable for the children to go to Remulan territory where they would definitely be safe from Darth Sidious.

The former Coruscant Guard under Commander Fox had almost uniformly volunteered to supervise building a new Temple on Kadavo and serving as its protection. Quinlan respected their dedication, and understood the reason why. He felt a sense of duty to give them a new Order to protect. 

He would help them rebuild the Jedi, one new youngling and one lost Padawan at a time.

Meanwhile, Kenobi was busy trying to take over the galaxy, one planet at a time—hence the second aspect to Quinlan’s extended mission. He was supposed to find, connect, and support any and all local insurgencies that he could find. Quinlan was there to rescue younglings and throw credits around, preferably in that order.

There was a relatively large resistance group on Kashyyyk—the Wookiees were strong and proud, and they tended to unite in the face of external threats like Imperial rule. All efforts of the Empire to crack down only strengthened the will of the local resistance, but the overwhelming force of the Empire was wearing them down. They were eager for connections to other rebel factions, eager to give and receive support.

Obi-Wan had given Quinlan a staggering amount of credits to distribute to rebel groups, and a blanket license to do whatever he had to do in order to rescue the younglings. Quinlan appreciated being given a mission that allowed him to work as a solo agent. He was still grieving, and wasn’t nearly ready to be part of a big team.

He wanted time to miss his family. _Aayla_. So many others…

“Hey! Over here!”

A quiet call in the distinctive Shyriiwook language came from between buildings, and Quinlan looked over sharply to see a young Wookiee beckoning him closer. He surveyed the road, and with studied casualness crossed the street to slide into the narrow path, following his guide warily as they retreated from the main street and the Stormtroopers.

Quinlan followed the quickly retreating form of the young Wookiee around a corner into an alley, and pulled up sharply at the sight of four grown Wookies holding blasters. He spoke quickly, holding up his hands to show he was unarmed. “The Jawa calls the Ewok short.”

“Like taking clams from a Gungan,” the leader replied, as quietly as possible in Shyriiwook, holstering her blaster. “You’re late.”

Quinlan nodded, putting his hands down. “There were more patrols than you had indicated.”

“A recent change,” she growled, frustrated. “I am Lofryyhn, this is Chewbacca, my second.”

“Pleased to finally meet you,” Quinlan smiled genuinely at them. “I am Quinlan. I hear you have a child that needs to be protected? I also have the credits we discussed.”

“Yes, good, good,” Lofryyhn said, looking around anxiously. “Let’s get out of the street.”

“Of course,” Quinlan smiled again, dipping his head in agreement. “Lead the way.”

—

LOTHAL

Obi-Wan thought he looked rather sharp in an Imperial uniform.

He examined his reflection in the ‘fresher mirror, taking in the sharp cut of his coat, and the jaunty angle of his cap. The Empire was heinous in so many ways, but he had to hand it to Sidious about the officers’ uniforms. _Very stylish._

The Remulan forces all wore armor.

Obi-Wan left the bedroom’s small fresher and sat down at the desk, waiting. He pulled out his datapad and began absently scrolling through reports.

It had been laughably easy to infiltrate the Imperial base on Lothal, as usual. All it took was a uniform to pass unremarkably on the security cameras, a basic Force illusion permitting everyone who looked to see him as someone vaguely familiar but unimportant, and five standard minutes of his time.

Obi-Wan eventually kicked his feet up on the empty desk, tipping back in the chair and looking around at the gray interior of the room. There was no personalization whatsoever, and was clearly more of a hotel than an apartment. 

He’d expected more luxurious quarters for the Governor of the Outer Rim territories, but apparently the Empire did not see fit to coddle their leadership.

“If it isn’t the former High General and disgraced traitor, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The crisp Coruscanti accent of Governor Tarkin broke the silence. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow—Tarkin had entered much more quietly than he’d had expected. He let his feet drop and stood up with a slight bow in mock deference. 

“Hello, Tarkin. Love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Charming,” Tarkin sneered, his posture erect and his eyes cold. “I have already ordered your capture, and you are currently surrounded.”

“Am I?” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, glancing around the empty room. He advanced on Tarkin, and enjoyed his suppressed flinch to move away. “You’re not a natural liar, Tarkin, I wouldn’t try to start now.” Tarkin lifted the comlink in his hand, and Obi-Wan stopped him with the Force. “No, I don’t think so.”

Tarkin’s eyes widened, unable to move. Obi-Wan came closer, and laid his fingers on his forehead. “I apologize for this, I truly do.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, gathered his power, and _pushed_. Tarkin grimaced, his neck cording as he struggled to reject Obi-Wan’s presence in his mind. The draining of knowledge with the dark side was painfully uncomfortable for the subject if resisted, and Tarkin was resisting as much as he could. 

Obi-Wan frowned, and tried harder. 

This was not Obi-Wan’s favorite activity, especially after he’d had his altercation with Anakin and had reevaluated his perspective. Much, however, had not changed. He was still a Sith, his blade was still red, and his eyes still burned gold with rage at the maimed state of the galaxy and the oppression of the Empire.

He was still fighting the war—the same war between him and Sidious, which had begun without Obi-Wan’s knowledge on that day he killed the Sith Apprentice on Naboo, and had never truly ended; it had only changed. 

The rules of war still applied, especially with those like Tarkin in the military chain of command that oversaw the military districts of the Empire that had replaced civilian control of the Republic. The Empire and its crackdown following reunification had turned every planet into a battlefield. It was unacceptable. 

Obi-Wan focused, looking deeper for secret plans and machinations. Tarkin was starting to turn red in the face, his eyes wild. 

Obi-Wan drew back with a gasp and stared at Tarkin in horror for a long moment. He waved his hand—Tarkin’s willpower was scrambled enough now to easily be moved by force persuasion. “Tell me everything you know about the _‘Death Star.’”_

It was a good thing, Obi-Wan quickly learned, that the Death Star would take many years to complete. He knew for sure that Darth Sidious would be dead long before he could ever use it. He would _make_ sure.

He looked at Tarkin again, trying to decide his fate. The dark side curled around Obi-Wan, whispering, reminding him of all the death and pain this man had caused and hoped to cause. The Force sang to him about entire planets being destroyed in a heartbeat, entire cultures being crushed under Imperial boots.

Obi-Wan lit his lightsaber.

_No._

—

KAMINO

Cody felt strange using the Kaminoan administrative offices to do anything, even something as banal as make a long-range transmission. He had an uncomfortable, childish sense of breaking the rules, just by being there. The ambient white glow of the walls was familiar and disconcerting. 

For long moments, he could forget that the war had even happened, and that it wasn’t just a fever dream. Even putting the Kaminoans in custody hadn’t helped the surreal feeling of being back. It just didn’t seem real that he had left and returned—that he had lost so many brothers.

“How’s the morale?” 

The flickering blue holo of the General crossed his arms and sounded worried, making Cody blink. It took a moment for him to realize that Kenobi had directed his question at the holos of Tano and Rex, not him. 

The 501st were only a few parsecs away from Kamino, on the trailing edge of Hutt Space. Their goodwill tour of Hutt planets was mostly finished, and all the major population centers had been seeded with Remulan bases. Volunteer squads from across all units of the former G.A.R. had been stationed to provide support for new citizens.

Tano clarified, “You mean for the men at the garrisons?”

“Yes, I worry about them.” Kenobi stroked his beard, looking concerned. “Are they doing well?”

Rex laughed and shrugged. “They signed up for it. I think they’re happy enough.”

“But…” Kenobi sounded unconvinced. “They’re isolated away from their brothers. Isn’t that hard?”

The holo of Rex turned and looked blankly at Cody, and Cody tried to explain. “Nobody’s alone, General, they all have their squad. It was always a group decision. They have their family.” He thought about a com he’d just received. “And their family is expanding, sir, there are marriages and pregnancies happening all over. I think they’re too happy, if anything.”

Tano giggled. “It’s going to cut down on the dating pool in Hutt Space if technically there are a lot of half-siblings out there.” She elbowed Rex, and Cody suppressed a smile at the way that Rex comically overreacted. _They acted like siblings._

“We’ll deal with that in about fifteen years, sir.” Rex eventually waved her off dismissively. 

Tano rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Fair enough. What’s next, Master Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard again, and Cody noticed that he was smoothing away a smile too. His face grew much more serious. “All the intel I can gather suggests that Sidious is preparing to make his push into reclaiming the Outer Rim. He’s reached a deadlock with some rebels in the Mid Rim, but has mostly locked down the Empire internally. I think his focus is going to return to the blockade, and will probably attempt to capture New Remule soon.”

Cody nodded in agreement. “There have been a lot of droids coming out of Corellia and Kuat. High-power, advanced droids unlike we’ve seen before, sir. Poggle’s droids look like child’s play in comparison. The Empire’s ships are fast and they have much better supply lines than we do. Their attack will be very dangerous.”

Kenobi acknowledged him with a grimace. “Unfortunately, we might need to let him advance, at least for the moment. We need to pull all of his forces as far away from Coruscant as possible, so that we can use the hyperspace route from former Separatist space to dive deep into the Core, and capture the capital.”

Cody made a negative noise. “If we let him advance, he’s going to pummel through our defenses and take New Remule, sir, especially with the new technology. We won’t be able to hold him long, and I remind you that you technically _haven’t gotten us access_ to that hyperspace route yet.” 

“I’m nearly there,” Kenobi said seriously. “You know I have to find that blasted black cave too. The timing of all of this is going to be tricky… Do you think we'll need more men to do it? Sidious has built up a system of military schooling, we might need to match it.” 

“Yes, sir,” Cody said thoughtfully. “Do we put out a broad call for volunteers?”

“You should offer citizenship, debt relief, and a signing bonus,” Tano contributed cheerfully. “We might be able to pull recruits from the Mid Rim with that offer. You’ll be swamped.”

Kenobi sounded curious. “How is public opinion in the Mid Rim? Do we have numbers on that?”

Tano shrugged. “I don’t know the numbers. People like the debt cancellations and the reconstruction assistance, and they want that on their planets. We’ve been seeing requests for citizenship coming from systems as far coreward as the Inner Rim. We’ve denied all requests so far, and placed the blame on the Empire.”

Kenobi nodded, pulling up some information on a datapad. “Do we have support of a majority of delegations in the Imperial Senate yet?” Nobody replied. Cody and Rex looked at each other, and shrugged. Politics was not their area. Tano fiddled with her headband. Eventually Kenobi sighed. “Not quite, there are still some vocal supporters both of Sidious and of restoring the Republic. The Senate is still split three ways. I need to weaken one of the other legs of the tripod.”

Cody frowned. “What does that mean, General?”

“I think I need to make a trip to Coruscant,” Kenobi sounded like he was dreading the prospect, but Cody knew better. _Skywalker was on Coruscant. The General had been looking for an excuse for ages._ Cody kept as straight a face as possible, waiting for updated orders—Kenobi sounded like he’d made up his mind. “Put out the call for volunteers. We already have the best army in the world, with the best training and the most experience. The _Vode_ will train better soldiers than anything the Empire can produce, I know it.”

Cody felt his face grow slightly warm. “Thank you, sir. I’ll get a team working on it.” A loud clatter from the doorway made Cody look up with a frown. His frown melted when he realized what Waxer was about to say. He hastily looked back at the holotable. “I’ll check in soon, sir.”

“Of course, Cody.” Kenobi nodded at him. “Thank you.”

“Cody! C'mon!” Waxer called from across the room. “They’re ready!”

“Excuse me,” Cody said crisply, ending the transmission. He examined Waxer’s face for emotions. “The final batch of brothers?”

Waxer grinned, his joy radiating. “They’re here!”

—

CORUSCANT

Obi-Wan regretfully raised a hand, and Senator Amidala’s face went slack. 

Her strength of will made it more difficult to alter her judgement than almost any other sentient that he’d ever come across. She was almost as hard to mind trick as a Hutt. Luckily, he’d done that. _He had a lot of experience._

Senator Amidala was the last of his planned visits, having already ‘met’ with a series of key Mid Rim representatives, and one or two from the Inner Rim. He was glad that Bail had been especially easy to convince to return to Alderaan to start a family. 

Hopefully, Senator Amidala’s mind would supply a compelling reason for her change in opinion. Obi-Wan pushed his hand forward, lightly touching her forehead and speaking forcefully. “You _will_ retire from the Senate.”

“I will retire,” the Senator repeated in a flat tone. 

Obi-Wan nodded slightly, fingers pressing harder. “You will return to Naboo.”

“I will return to Naboo.”

“You will forget I used the Force.” Obi-Wan pushed one last time. “You support my actions.”

“I will forget,” the Senator nodded vaguely. “I support you.”

One more command seemed to slip out, despite his better judgement. _“You will never contact Anakin again_.”

“I will never contact Anakin.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan muttered to himself, stepping back and watching her face clear. “What were you saying about Naboo?”

Senator Amidala smiled, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Queen Neeyutnee has offered me the position of advisor, should I ever grow tired of Senate business. I think I finally have. Maybe I’ll actually be able to help people on Naboo, instead of just performative pseudo-representation.”

Obi-Wan smiled at her. “That sounds like a phenomenal idea.”

The Senator moved to pick up her datapad, typing furiously. She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “How much longer will your stay on Coruscant be? I imagine it’s awfully dangerous for you to be here.”

“The Emperor is off-planet.” Obi-Wan reassured her, checking in the Force to make sure that his planted thoughts had taken root. _They had_. He gave her a final smile, looking toward the door. “I just have one meeting left.”

“Good luck,” the Senator smiled genuinely, her eyes kind. “I support you.”

Obi-Wan looked at her sharply, and then nodded. “Thank you. I will leave you to your business.” 

As he left, he felt a calculating sense of satisfaction, and a shameful sense of relief— _the Senator would leave Anakin alone_. 

He was pleased with his day’s work. In one pass, Obi-Wan had eliminated almost all of the most vocal proponents of restoring the former Republic. The replacement Senators would be elected by a population much more sympathetic to the Remulan cause. He hadn’t had to resort to physical violence, and had still given himself a very strong probability of future numerical superiority in the Senate.

The future Senators would be sympathetic, or Obi-Wan would _make_ them sympathetic. It wasn’t as if the Imperial Senate had any real power to change the government, not after Sidious’s reforms and the institution of martial law. Nevertheless, it looked _very good_ to be elected. The public liked watching elections—they loved turning politics into sport. 

Gambling and enjoyable rivalries depended on elections, and they were the lifeblood of happy civil disagreement. Obi-Wan would never do away with politics in the way that Sidious was attempting to do—it was Sidious’s core mistake of attempting total control, and why Sidious would fail. Totalitarianism could not survive in a diverse galaxy, and it was a mistake to even try. 

_A mistake that would harm many. A mistake Obi-Wan was desperate to correct._

In Obi-Wan’s humble opinion, the Sith were supposed to _encourage_ conflict, not try to stifle it. He would have as many elections as people wanted—he just had to make sure that he always came out on top. He would pick the candidates if necessary, and would make sure that every choice was still a vote for his platform. In a very real way, it didn’t actually matter who held lower office, and what they did. A healthy amount of churn was good, and it was surprisingly easy to rig the game to make it seem participatory. 

It kept people busy, and people like to be busy.

He hopped in his speeder and drove away quickly into the Coruscanti night, the shimmering lights stretching out to the horizon. The infinite city had a certain kind of beauty, not like the mountains of Alderaan or the verdant planes of Naboo—something a little colder, a little more artificial.

Obi-Wan swerved into traffic. Anakin would be pleased at how little he was paying attention to local traffic laws, and the thought only made him accelerate. He could feel that Anakin was on the planet, and he could feel him growing closer in their bond. In a _real_ way, not because of their strange anomaly in the Force.

They were finally on the same planet again, at the same time. 

It had been months since their fight on Kadavo, and Obi-Wan was going _insane_. Anakin refused to let him touch him through the bond, and would only give him the most teasing touches imaginable, and would murmur the most teasing words. Obi-Wan had spent months _looking._

Every time he closed his eyes, he could perfectly see the curve of Anakin’s lips, the width of his shoulders, the curl of his hair. His memory wouldn’t stop showing him the curve of Anakin’s ass, and he would feel vivid flashes of memories of how it felt to fuck in deep, the warmth and pressure, the sound of Anakin’s distinctive whimper when he was stuffed full of cock. His dreams were even worse. 

Obi-Wan was going _insane._

The only time they touched was at night, if the bond happened to connect while they were asleep—but Anakin withdrew every time he woke up, and it wasn’t as if Obi-Wan would molest him in his sleep. He didn’t want to touch Anakin, if Anakin didn’t want to be touched. 

Obi-Wan felt like he was losing his ability to think clearly with his overwhelming need to be near him, to smell him, taste him, feel his skin. _Anakin was driving him insane_. Obi-Wan could hardly focus on the war, on his responsibilities. It was beyond risky for him to be here on Coruscant at all, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity of the excuse. 

Cody and Ahsoka had given him many pointed looks, and asked many pointed questions, but they all knew he was going to go anyway. Even if it took Obi-Wan sneaking into the heart of enemy territory, he needed badly to at least _see_ Anakin for real in person, and maybe… maybe even _touch him_.

It appeared that Anakin’s apartment was located in the heart of the complex that housed all the Force sensitive younglings. Obi-Wan could feel their gentle ripples in the living Force, emanating from their sleeping minds. Several were awake, but none were upset. The complex was filled with a strange sense of peace and quiet.

Obi-Wan was going to intrude, and almost felt bad about that fact. Hopefully, they wouldn’t notice until he’d already left. 

He parked his speeder and walked quickly, throwing up an incredibly strong Force invisibility illusion. He used his ability to manipulate electricity, raising a hand and focusing hard to release the power stored in the droids and cameras. He pushed the Force to open locked doors, sneaking inside layer by layer. The facility was impossibly secure, and Obi-Wan had the suspicion that he was one of a very select few in the galaxy who possessed the capacity to break in without tripping alarms, and it was oddly satisfying.

It also helped distract from his nerves, which were growing with each step closer to _Anakin._

Obi-Wan stood outside the final door for a long moment, trying to gather himself together. He was strongly aware of his heartbeat, and the breathlessness that wouldn’t go away. Anakin was on the other side of the wall, he could feel it. He could _feel him_. He was _so close._

Obi-Wan raised a hand to knock, and the door slid open. Anakin was sitting straight up in bed, and was staring at him through the dim light. He sounded bewildered and half-awake. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t leave without trying to see you,” Obi-Wan said earnestly. “May I come in?” 

Anakin nodded as if it were obvious, and Obi-Wan stepped inside the room, letting the door slide shut behind him. The room filled with shadows and a sudden hush. Obi-Wan was so aware of the sound of his breath, so unsure of what to do now that he was _finally there_ —but then Anakin reached out for him in the Force, testing and checking him, making sure he was real. 

Obi-Wan instinctively opened his mind, catching and welcoming him, and their bond swirled with power. He lost his sense of awkwardness in the rush of connection. It felt like sinking into warm water—a shiver went down his spine and the hair on his arms raised, and he felt strangely lightheaded. 

He’d never appreciated before just how much richer the bond was in person, how much deeper it went. His eyes unfocused as the space between them crackled alive with mutual awareness, and it felt like his fingers were tingling. _It felt so good. It felt like home._

Anakin licked his lips and leaned forward. His voice was low, and still rough with sleep. “I mean on Coruscant. What are you doing here?” 

Obi-Wan moved forward, despite his intention to remain still. Some part of him was desperate to erase all distance between them, but he held himself back, trying as hard as possible to seem casual. “I was meeting with Senators, and—” 

Anakin abruptly used the Force to turn on the lights, making Obi-Wan blink and then smile. Anakin looked so soft and sleepy, his eyes squinting slightly and his hair slightly flattened by his pillow. He was staring at Obi-Wan like he was a puzzle, and Obi-Wan wanted to kiss the confusion off his face. 

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Obi-Wan tried very hard to keep his eyes up and focused hard on his expression. Anakin shook his head and blinked, eyes opening with much more sharpness. His eyes bored into Obi-Wan’s for a long moment, and then he frowned. “What did you do to Padmé?”

Obi-Wan made himself stop moving forward, stepping back to lean against the messy desk opposite Anakin’s bed. He broke eye contact and absently picked up Solon’s holocron, spinning it in his hands. His heart was pounding, and he felt a swelling sense of dread. “I did not hurt her, Anakin.”

There was a long moment of quiet, and Anakin pushed back his covers, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up sharply. Obi-Wan surveyed him, taking in the soft gray fabric of his sleep pants, and the muscled strength of his shirtless chest. “You mind tricked her!”

His eyes snapped back to meet Anakin’s accusatory stare. “I did.”

Anakin rubbed a hand over his face and let out a frustrated groan. He sat back on his bed and crossed his arms, studying Obi-Wan’s face. “Why would you do that?”

Obi-Wan pushed his earnest intentions through the bond and Anakin raised his eyebrows, demanding explanation. Obi-Wan sighed, looking back at the holocron. “It was the better option, Anakin. She’s retiring to Naboo—I didn’t hurt her. She’s fine.”

“She’s not fine if you messed with her head.” Anakin growled, and then looked away. “Why? Why couldn’t you just convince her to go?”

Obi-Wan set down the holocron and looked back at Anakin seriously. “She was blinded by her inability to adjust her politics to her environment.” Anakin made a skeptical noise, and Obi-Wan held up his hands. He took a deep breath, trying to focus. 

_He really didn’t want to fight._

“She refused to make the best of what’s happened, and was clinging to the hope of returning to a past that is already long gone. The entire structure of the Republic has been irrevocably altered. It is impossible to go back.”

“So what?” Anakin said mulishly, standing up and coming closer. Obi-Wan dropped his hands, and straightened his posture, surprised by his approach. “Why couldn’t you leave her alone? She’s only one Senator. There’s a thousand others you could—" He waved a hand vaguely. "—tamper with.”

Obi-Wan swallowed. “I don’t think you appreciate how powerful and influential she is, Anakin. She's a leading voice for what used to be the Delegation of 2000. They tried to strip Palpatine of emergency power during the war, and are attempting to restore the Republic even now.” Anakin was getting so close, and Obi-Wan’s voice grew quieter, his eyes searching. “Naboo is the regional leader for that sector of the Mid Rim, Anakin, and I need the Senator from Naboo to support me. I need it to be Jar Jar, not…”

“Because he’s gullible.” Anakin was standing directly in front of him, hands on his hips. 

Obi-Wan was rendered inarticulate by the sudden proximity of so much warm, naked skin. _He was really here. This was real, not the bond._ Obi-Wan’s hands clenched, and his lips parted, trying to keep eye contact. “Sure, yes, I guess. I’m sorry I had to do it, Anakin, but—”

Anakin cut him off, raising a hand, his tone resigned. “I understand, Obi-Wan. I don’t like it, but I understand. I guess I’m glad you didn’t kill her.”

“Of course not!” Obi-Wan said uncomfortably. He repeated himself, more quietly, searching Anakin’s face for resentment. “Of course not.”

Anakin’s face was inscrutable, but his hands fell from his hips and the accusation left his posture. There was an almost awkward pause, the bond a thick mesh of attention, their bodies so close but still distant. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and realized he could smell Anakin from this distance. He clenched his jaw and leaned back against the desk.

“Did you…” Anakin paused, and tried again. “Did you really kill Gardulla?”

Obi-Wan nodded apologetically. “Yes, I’m sorry, I wanted to wait and save her for you but…” He trailed off, trying to read the expression in Anakin’s eyes. 

“... She had to go.” Anakin completed Obi-Wan’s sentence and then sighed, his chest rising and falling in a distracting manner. 

Obi-Wan swallowed and looked back up at his face. It felt harder and harder to talk clearly, and his voice came out low. “Yes, I’m sorry, Anakin.”

Anakin shook his head, his eyes fierce. “Don’t apologize. I…” He looked down, leaning forward slightly. “Thank you, Obi-Wan. I’m glad to know she’s dead.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, his voice quiet and intent. His fingers ached with the need to touch, but he held back. “Of course, Anakin. I did it for you.”

Anakin leaned slightly closer, and Obi-Wan held his breath. “Did you take Zygerria for me too? Is that what you wouldn’t say?” His voice was teasing, but his eyes were vulnerable.

Obi-Wan licked his lips, and Anakin’s eyes dropped before returning to stare into Obi-Wan’s, searching for his answer. Obi-Wan’s hand rose without permission, coming up to rest against Anakin’s cheek, his thumb stroking him so gently. “I did it for you, yes. I wished you were there. I think for some reason I hoped you’d approve, and you’d come back. It was foolish but—”

Anakin cut him off, kissing him.

Obi-Wan made a noise low in his throat, kissing him back. _Finally_. His eyes slid closed, his heart was pounding, his mind was blank. He leaned forward, tipping his head to the side slightly, moving his lips slowly. Their contact was electric, and Obi-Wan moaned again. The bond was open, and filled with Anakin’s desire. 

Anakin pulled back slightly at the sound of Obi-Wan’s moan, and his eyes were bright as he gave Obi-Wan his crooked smile, the cocky one, the one that made Obi-Wan loved and loathed in equal measure. “Did you miss me?” Obi-Wan just huffed at him, and Anakin smiled again—the wide, happy one. His left hand came up to Obi-Wan’s face, stroking his chin, almost petting his beard. “I missed you.”

Obi-Wan felt himself smiling back, letting Anakin touch his face for a moment before he pulled him close and wrapped him in his arms, hugging him tightly. Anakin sighed happily, relaxing into his embrace, hugging him back. Obi-Wan pressed a soft kiss against his lips and stroked the bare skin of his back, murmuring, “You _know_ I missed you. I’ve told you probably fifty times. I’ve told you every time I’ve seen you for months.” 

Anakin nodded, and nestled his head into Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan felt incredulously happy, and squeezed him close. Anakin huffed a small laugh, and clung to him tighter. They were finally, _finally_ , touching—the part of Obi-Wan that had been aching for months was soothed, the longing that had never gone away was finally quiet. 

They stayed like that for a long moment. Obi-Wan’s emotions were bubbling out of control—he wanted to laugh, and he felt like time was running out. Every moment was so precious, and Anakin was so warm in his arms, awake and aware. He _wanted_ Obi-Wan to touch him. He _wanted_ this. _Right?_

Obi-Wan felt a twinge of fear and pulled back, looking at Anakin’s face intently, trying to make absolutely sure. “ _Was this alright?”_

 _“Yes, Obi-Wan_.” Anakin’s thought came floating back to him through the bond. Obi-Wan hadn’t realized he was even projecting. _“This is alright_. _”_ Anakin kissed him again, as if to show that he meant it. 

Obi-Wan kissed him back, humming in appreciation and savoring the soft feeling. He was almost lost in the bond, in the overwhelming flood of affection, the sweetness of the kiss. He was determined not to take, not to push. More than anything, he wanted Anakin to be happy, to let him set the pace. He tried to let Anakin have control, and let him determine the force and the speed—the amount and location of their touch. He would take what Anakin gave, but no more than that.

Just touching was already almost enough.

—

Anakin broke the kiss with a gasp and stared at Obi-Wan, feeling confused. His heart was racing, and he felt a sense of disorientation. 

Obi-Wan studied his face, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“This is wrong,” Anakin said, unsure. He shook his head, frowning slightly, trying to understand what had made him feel the sudden surge of _wrongness_.

“What is?” Obi-Wan looked alarmed, pushing him back, the question raking through the bond. He looked so worried, almost regretful. “What’s wrong, Anakin?”

“Calm down,” Anakin leaned forward, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. The sense of panic faded, and was replaced by uncertainty. Anakin sighed, “I only meant…” He gestured loosely between them, and looked into Obi-Wan cautious eyes. “I shouldn’t be the one doing this.”

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan’s hand floated back up to his face, stroking him gently, a concerned wrinkle deepening between his eyebrows as he studied his face. “What’s wrong, Anakin?”

Anakin leaned into the contact, closing his eyes. “Will you…” It was so hard to put what he needed into words. “I need you to… ”

“To what, Anakin?” Obi-Wan stroked his face again, his eyes intense. “I will do anything you need.”

“I know,” Anakin smiled slightly. _He’d killed for him, died for him_. He took a deep breath, pushing his face into Obi-Wan’s hand. His voice came out low, and insecure. “Will you take care of me?”

Obi-Wan’s head rocked back slightly, and he looked almost afraid. “What?”

Anakin felt a sudden surge of understanding, of what would feel _right_. He was suddenly weak at the knees, unsteady with the realization. “Please, Obi-Wan,” he said, sliding down to his knees and resting his forehead against Obi-Wan’s thigh for a moment before looking up, eyes wide. “I want you to take care of me. I want you to… I need you to be in control again. I can’t do it. I need it to be you, _Master.”_

Obi-Wan looked down at him, face blank for a long moment. Anakin felt a sweep of concern in the Force, of Obi-Wan trying to make sure he understood him correctly. Anakin sent his overwhelming approval through the bond, and pressed his forehead against Obi-Wan’s thigh again, waiting. 

Eventually Obi-Wan’s hand came down, brushing through his hair and pulling his head back, meeting his eyes. “Sweetheart, you were doing so well. I liked it, I wanted you to do that.”

“You did?” Anakin swallowed, feeling strangely shy. “You liked it?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes filled with fondness, and he ran his hand through Anakin’s hair again, loosely gripping the curls. “Yes, _Padawan,_ I liked it.”

Anakin exhaled hard, relaxing his neck and letting Obi-Wan move his head wherever he wanted it. “Thank you, _Master._ I missed… I missed hearing you call me that.”

“I missed saying it.” Obi-Wan murmured, pulling up sharply on his hair. Anakin obediently stood, following Obi-Wan’s nonverbal instruction. His heart beat faster, he felt so happy, so alive. Obi-Wan walked him backward toward the bed, pushing him back and down, crawling on top of him. Within the space of a few breaths, Anakin went from his knees to on his back, and he smiled up at Obi-Wan widely. Obi-Wan huffed an incredulous laugh, his eyes bright.

“I never realized how much I could possibly miss you until you were gone. I missed saying your name, _Anakin.”_ He kissed Anakin gently, sucking on his bottom lip until he whined. Obi-Wan pulled back at the sound, smirking slightly. Anakin felt a surge of affection for the expression, sending a massive wave of desire into the bond that made Obi-Wan’s eyes close for a moment, reopening darker, his voice rougher. “I missed missions with you, _Padawan._ ”

He kissed Anakin deeply, taking what he wanted, tasting his lips and licking into his mouth. Their tongues tangled, and Anakin’s hips rocked slightly, seeking friction. He broke the kiss, panting slightly, his hips rocking again. He was so hard, it almost hurt.

“I need you to touch me, Obi-Wan, please. I need you, Master.”

Obi-Wan hummed, looking down at his face with a strangely serious expression, despite the flushed cheeks and blown pupils. He sounded strangely hesitant, almost insecure. “Before I can do that, Anakin, I… I need you to know that…” He swallowed, fingers raking through Anakin’s hair again anxiously. He took a shaky breath, and said, “I love you. You’re the only one I want by my side, all the time. You’re my partner, we’re _the Team.”_ He laughed weakly, eyes vulnerable. “I need you too, Padawan. More than you need me, probably...” 

Anakin surged up, claiming his lips, and pulling him down on top of him, kissing him fiercely. Obi-Wan kissed him back, and Anakin let him in, giving him back control. Obi-Wan hummed and kissed him deeper, owning his mouth. Anakin didn’t have to think, didn’t have to worry. It felt so good to not be in charge, to be able to follow Obi-Wan’s lead. 

_He wasn’t Obi-Wan’s slave. He was his partner. Obi-Wan needed him, loved him, too._

He pressed his hips up again, seeking pressure and whined as he felt Obi-Wan’s hard cock through his pants. He spread his legs slightly, letting Obi-Wan settle in between them. Obi-Wan shifted slightly, rubbing their erections together and letting out an almost pained breath. 

Anakin made an involuntary noise of complaint when Obi-Wan abruptly pushed back, sitting back on his heels between Anakin’s spread legs. Obi-Wan stroked his calves reassuringly, his fingers tangling in the soft gray fabric. Anakin shifted, and made another unhappy noise at their distance that made Obi-Wan huff a laugh.

“I want to try something, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, his voice rough with desire but still a little more hesitant than Anakin would have expected. “I’ve been wondering about it for months, and…” He trailed off, tilting his head to the side and looking curious. 

“What, Master?” Anakin sounded breathless, and he tried again. “What do you want me to do?”

Obi-Wan smiled at him, giving him another reassuring touch on the leg. “I want you to try to enter my mind, take some of my darkness. Like… like how I used to… when I thought I was helping you but…”

Anakin sucked in a surprised inhale, and cut off his nervous ramble. “Yes, please, Master. I want to.”

Obi-Wan nodded seriously, scooting back further and sitting with crossed legs. “Come, sit.” He gestured in front of him. 

Anakin studied his expression and sat up, crawling closer and sitting in front of him in the usual meditative position. Obi-Wan held out his hands, and Anakin grasped them, smiling when Obi-Wan squeezed them gently. 

Sitting like this, in a learning posture, with Obi-Wan as his teacher, felt so good and right that Anakin felt another surge of arousal—a flood of memories of being a Padawan, desperately trying to keep his desire to suck Obi-Wan’s cock hidden from Obi-Wan during mandatory meditation sessions. 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him, and Anakin blushed. “What now, Master?”

“I’m going to try to let you in, but I’ve never done it before. I might need you to push, and look for the darkness yourself. You’ll know it when you find it.”

“What do I do when I do?” Anakin asked, his words inarticulate despite the fact that he was trying so hard to focus. His cock ached, it felt like there was no blood in his brain at all. He shifted to sit more comfortably. _Why did he like this so much?_

Obi-Wan gave him an affectionate look. “Accept it, I think. You just have to embrace it, and create the space in yourself to forgive it. It’s like heat and cold, the heat of the darkness will seek the cool place of your understanding.” 

“I’ll… try,” Anakin said cautiously, and Obi-Wan squeezed his hands again. 

“It will make sense, I promise.” 

“Alright, Master. I’ll try.” Anakin closed his eyes, falling into the bond. He felt the moment when Obi-Wan closed his eyes too, and joined him there. 

Anakin immediately almost got lost in the combined desire between them. The craving to touch and be touched was almost overwhelming. It felt like they were _playing_ at being teacher and student, and they both liked it _so much_. Obi-Wan squeezed his hands, and Anakin tried to focus.

He felt his way forward, pushing deep into Obi-Wan’s mind for the first time. He felt the resistance of all of Obi-Wan’s instinctive walls of self-protection, all of his shields and masks. He kept pushing, kept looking for real emotions, Obi-Wan’s real self. It was so hidden and protected, Anakin felt lost in a hall of mirrors.

Anakin felt a strand, though, that felt very much like his own heart. He followed it like a trail, feeling his way in deeper and deeper until he hit a final resistance. He pushed against it harder, and suddenly it was like breaking through ice. He plunged into a deep, dark pool, and gasped. 

Obi-Wan’s hands squeezed again tightly, and Anakin struggled to avoid feeling overwhelmed by the sheer amount of contained rage and guilt, fear and shame. _Obi-Wan felt so much, felt like he did, felt the same._ So much of the darkness felt familiar, felt like _him._

Anakin suddenly understood Obi-Wan, and realized they were the _same_ in so many ways. It felt so natural and so right to him to accept him unconditionally, to forgive him for his mistakes—it was like accepting and forgiving himself. _Unconditional, total forgiveness_. He heard Obi-Wan moan, as if he were feeling unimaginable pleasure, and Anakin smiled. He _knew_ how it felt. 

He dug deeper, following the trail of his own heart, down into the bottom of Obi-Wan’s mind, scraping at the oldest, deepest emotions. _Guilt, guilt, guilt_. There was so much guilt: guilt about his dreams, guilt about training Anakin anyway, guilt about wanting him, guilt about taking him… 

Anakin saw it all, and _understood_. He opened himself up, letting Obi-Wan’s darkness enter him, taking as much as he could, trying to take it all, forgive it all. _He loved him._ Obi-Wan made another low noise, and Anakin opened his eyes, unable to keep them closed. Obi-Wan was staring at him, his face flushed and eyes dark. 

His voice, when he spoke, was a rasp. “Is it always like that?”

“Yes,” Anakin said, breathing hard. “Now you understand.”

“I do,” Obi-Wan said, his hands moving to his belt and undoing the fastener. His eyes flicked from Anakin’s mouth down to the outline of his hard cock in gray fabric. “Take off your pants.”

 _“Yes, Master.”_ Anakin pulled off his pants, letting them fall to the floor, and palmed his cock, unable to keep his hands off himself. 

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan rebuked him, tone dark. His voice filled with command, “Lay down on the bed. Move as little as possible, Anakin. I am not going to restrain you, but I want you to restrain yourself. Stay _still,_ Padawan.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin moved back, laying down. He tried to breathe, he felt so warm, he felt like he was burning up. “I’ll try.” 

“I know you will, darling.” Obi-Wan said encouragingly, and Anakin whined. “Lay still. I’m going to touch you, Anakin. I’ve dreamed about this, thought about this so much. I just need...” Obi-Wan pulled his tabards off, and his tunics. Anakin watched every layer disappear, and licked his lips. 

“Please, Master,” he whispered. “Please hurry.”

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan gave him a slow smile that sent a thrill down his spine. “You don’t get to decide how fast I go.”

Anakin felt like he couldn’t hold his head up, and slumped back to the pillow, looking at the ceiling. “Of course, Master.”

“Very good,” Obi-Wan murmured, and Anakin tried to keep his hips still. “You’re doing well.”

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin whispered, eyes brightening when Obi-Wan loomed into his field of vision, looking down at him fondly. 

“You look so good like this, sweetheart.” He kissed Anakin’s forehead gently, and then pressed a light kiss to both eyelids. Anakin felt himself trembling, and took a shaky breath. Obi-Wan’s lips moved to kiss him again, their lips moving together for a long moment before Obi-Wan sucked hard on Anakin’s bottom lip and then bit it, holding it between his teeth as he pulled back slightly.

Anakin whined, and Obi-Wan let go, sitting back on his heels with a smile. Somehow he’d ended up back in the same position between Anakin’s spread legs, and Anakin hadn’t even noticed him moving. Obi-Wan’s hands stroked up his calves and touched behind his knees, making Anakin's hips jerk forward. 

Obi-Wan sighed in satisfaction. “It’s always made you do that.”

“What?” Anakin said loosely. “Made me do what.”

“Nothing, Padawan.” Obi-Wan’s slid up between his thighs, pushing them apart wider. “Do you have lube?”

“Yes,” Anakin said. “But I can’t get it, I can’t focus. It’s in the bathroom.”

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, and stood up. Anakin almost growled with frustration at the loss of contact. _He didn’t need lube, he needed Obi-Wan’s cock, he needed him to fuck him now, not…_ “I’ll be right back, dear one.” Obi-Wan reassured him, but it wasn’t enough. “Don’t move.”

 _Anakin was dying, he needed Obi-Wan to touch him, so badly_. His hands clenched and released, and he kept them away, didn’t let himself stroke his cock like he wanted to, _because Obi-Wan told him not to, Obi-Wan told him to wait, he had to wait…._

“Very good, Padawan.” Obi-Wan’s voice was low and appreciative. 

Anakin looked over in surprise, not having noticed his return. He suddenly realized that Obi-Wan was naked too, and his eyes fixed on Obi-Wan’s hard cock. It twitched as he looked at it, and his eyes flicked back up to Obi-Wan’s face. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “I would feel in the Force how much you wanted to touch yourself. You did so well. Very good, Padawan.” 

Anakin whined at the praise and Obi-Wan smiled kindly at him, his eyes full of teasing affection, and it made Anakin beg, “Please, Master, _please.”_

“Patience, dear one,” Obi-Wan murmured as he crawled back between Anakin’s legs, dropping the lube next to them on the bed. He laughed, “You are incapable of patience.”

“I know,” Anakin said apologetically. “I just need—”

Obi-Wan bent and licked the tip of Anakin’s hard cock into his mouth, sucking gently. Anakin made a sound like he’d been punched, his head falling back on the pillow. Obi-Wan’s mouth popped off and he moved back enough to spit on Anakin’s cock, and then swallowed it, letting it slide down his tongue until it hit the back of his throat. 

“Master,” Anakin whined and Obi-Wan hummed, moving his head up and down in a steady rhythm—still so gentle, so soft. Anakin’s hips twitched but he held still. It was so difficult; he was so close, so close already. “Thank you, thank you, Master…”

Obi-Wan looked up, and their eyes met. Anakin groaned, barely holding himself back from coming from their eye contact and Obi-Wan pulled his head back with a smile. 

“Very good, Padawan.” Obi-Wan’s voice was rough, and one of his hands took over stroking Anakin’s cock quickly, the other coming up to stroke his balls. 

Anakin couldn’t focus on anything but the perfect pressure on his cock, the gentle stroking touch of Obi-Wan’s fingers—he was so hard, _so close_ to tipping over the edge. 

Obi-Wan sent words through the bond, and Anakin’s head was suddenly full of Obi-Wan’s fervent murmur of _“I want you to come, Anakin, Padawan, please, I missed you so much, I love—”_

Obi-Wan’s wrist twisted, and Anakin came. 

Obi-Wan bent immediately to take his cock back into his mouth, letting him spill his come down his throat. Anakin moaned at the contact, his eyes rolling back in his head. The pressure in his stomach finally released, and it felt so good, so overwhelmingly good. Obi-Wan licked his lips, swallowing Anakin’s come, and Anakin felt an overwhelming surge of affection for him, _he loved his Master so much. There was no one better, anywhere, ever_.

Obi-Wan’s eyes caught his, and Anakin knew he’d overheard his thoughts. He blushed, and Obi-Wan leaned forward, kissing him slowly. Anakin could taste himself on Obi-Wan's tongue, and it made him feel like Obi-Wan was his, that he’d claimed him too. Anakin lost himself in the kiss, his mind soaked in pleasure. The Force around them felt warm and alive, as if they’d done something essential. 

Obi-Wan pulled back and checked in with him, his sharp gaze searching Anakin’s expression. “Do you want to be done, dear one? We can be done.”

“No!” Anakin felt his eyes widen in alarm. One of his hands jumped up to touch Obi-Wan’s arm before dropping back. “What do you mean we can be done? You haven’t fucked me!”

Obi-Wan laughed, and gave him a wry look. “I certainly know that, Anakin. I merely was suggesting that if you are done, we can stop.”

“Obi-Wan, stop it.” Anakin huffed and spoke quickly, his voice turning into a whine as he made earnest eye contact, trying to convince Obi-Wan of the _truth_. “I want you to fuck me. I want to take your cock, I want you to come in me. I want it more than _anything_. It’s all I think about, all I—”

Obi-Wan kissed him again, sending a wave of gratitude and appreciation through the bond. Anakin understood, _he had to check, because he cared, because he loved him._ Anakin’s hand strayed to the lube, and he picked it up, offering it to Obi-Wan. “Please, Master.”

“Thank you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, voice low and serious. “I love you.”

“I know,” Anakin smiled. “What do you want me to do?”

Obi-Wan slid his hands under Anakin’s thighs and pushed his legs up towards Anakin’s head. “Hold these here, Padawan.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin nodded, holding himself open. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan gave him a small, knowing smile. “I know you can.” He opened the lube, dispensing a generous amount onto his hand, rubbing it between his fingers to warm it up. “Hold still.” 

Anakin nodded, and only whimpered when he felt Obi-Wan’s fingers circling the soft skin around his ass, gently stroking and pressing inside. His eyes rolled back and he moaned, and Obi-Wan slid his fingers in deeper. He was taking his time, moving so slowly, opening Anakin up, preparing him.

“Very good, Padawan,” Obi-Wan muttered, voice low. “You take my fingers so well.” He suddenly pulled them out. “Turn over, please.” 

Anakin blinked at him for a few moments, and then let his legs go, turning awkwardly onto his stomach, looking back for validation. Obi-Wan smiled at him, grabbing the pillow and putting it under his hips. Anakin turned his face back down, wiggling slightly to get more comfortable. 

“Thank you darling, your back is so beautiful, did you know that?”

Anakin made a negative noise into the mattress, and gasped as he felt Obi-Wan kiss the nape of his neck, and moaned when Obi-Wan slid his fingers back into his ass. Obi-Wan began kissing slowly down his spine, pausing occasionally to suck purple marks as his fingers fucked Anakin gently. It felt like time was standing still, and it felt like it was taking _forever._ Anakin whined and tried as hard as he could to keep his hips still, trying to obey what he'd been instructed to do, but it was so hard. _It felt so good._

“So beautiful,” Obi-Wan muttered, kissing and sucking one last mark at the base of his spine. Anakin whimpered, his mind blank, unable to think about anything, only able to feel Obi-Wan’s fingers and Obi-Wan’s mouth. _It felt so good, it felt so right._

He turned his head to the side, eyes seeking Obi-Wan. _“Fuck me,_ I want you to fuck me now, please, Master.”

“You don’t get to choose, darling.” Obi-Wan said, his fingers beginning to fuck in harder. “You’ll take my fingers as long as I feel like fucking you with them. You’ll take my cock when I feel like fucking you with it. Do you understand?”

“Of course, Master, of course, I just—”

“I know you want it, Padawan. You’re panting for it. I love when you’re like this, so you’re going to stay like this, for a little longer.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin agreed breathlessly, his hips rocking slightly against the pillow to get pressure on his slowly returning erection. “Whatever you want, please, Obi-Wan.”

“Whatever I want?” Obi-Wan made a thoughtful noise, and his fingers disappeared. Anakin tried to mute his frustrated grumble, but Obi-Wan’s amused presence in the bond let him know he’d been unsuccessful. “I want you to have patience, Padawan. I'm not done touching you. I missed you, and I missed your body, more than you can possibly understand.”

Anakin moaned when he felt Obi-Wan kiss his lower back again, and then kept slowly moving down, gradually dropping kisses until his mouth came to lick and kiss Anakin’s ass, his hands spreading him wide. He gasped incredulously, “Master! But I—”

“Yes, Padawan?” Obi-Wan kissed him again, lower, and then sucked gently on the skin of his balls, and his hard cock. “I haven’t been able to think of anything but this…” He moved his mouth back to Anakin’s ass, slowly driving him insane with soft licks and gentle kisses. Anakin was so sensitive, so hyperaware of every touch, every time Obi-Wan's tongue pressed against his skin. He held himself as still as possible, letting Obi-Wan reclaim his body, but it _so hard to stay still, he wanted more, he needed more..._

“Master…” Anakin felt intoxicated, and his voice was unsteady. “It feels so good, but I…”

Obi-Wan moved his head back, and bit the cheek of Anakin’s ass hard. Anakin gasped, and his hips rocked forward, pushing his cock into the pillow. Obi-Wan chuckled and swatted him lightly, kissing the spot he'd bitten. “You’re doing well, dear one. You’re being patient, and I’m proud of you.”

The last words made Anakin whine, and press his cock into the pillow again. “Master…”

Obi-Wan pulled his legs apart farther, and Anakin thought that he heard the bottle of lube being opened again. He turned his head quickly to check, excited. His eyes widened as he saw Obi-Wan rubbing lube on his cock, staring at Anakin’s body with intent. Their eyes met, and Obi-Wan huffed a laugh at his expression. “Yes, Padawan, it’s _finally_ time.”

“Thank you,” Anakin smiled widely and sighed, feeling a rush of relief. He tilted his hips to better open himself up, trying to offer himself to Obi-Wan. “Please…”

Obi-Wan placed the tip of his cock against Anakin’s ass and leaned forward, pressing inside slowly, holding himself over Anakin on his elbows, slowly fucking in deeper and deeper. Anakin _whined_ , and Obi-Wan's hips jerked forward slightly, and then he laughed with satisfaction, “There it is. I’ve dreamt of just that noise, Anakin. The noise you make when you take my cock.” The final words were punctuated with a hard thrust, and Anakin moaned.

Obi-Wan stayed perfectly still for a long moment, as they both adjusted. Anakin felt Obi-Wan's hot breath on his neck, and then Obi-Wan's attention was sweeping through him with the bond, checking on him and making sure he wasn't feeling pain. It felt so good to have his Master's mind touch his own, to be full of his Master's cock. Obi-Wan thrust forward, fucking in deeper, and Anakin moaned, “Thank you, Master, thank you…”

Obi-Wan kissed his neck and began fucking him gently, his voice a fervent mutter in his ear, “You feel so good, Anakin, so tight and warm—better than I remembered, better than I could have possibly imagined, I missed you so much.”

"I missed you too, Master, so much," Anakin replied eagerly. He spread his legs wider, tilted his hips, and tried to take Obi-Wan's cock as deeply as possible. He frowned slightly—Obi-Wan was fucking him _so gently,_ despite everything. He was sliding in and out slowly, working himself in, but he was being so careful, so _gentle_. Anakin huffed and projected through the bond, _“Master, fuck me harder, I want you to really fuck me.”_

Obi-Wan bit his neck in retaliation, and Anakin whined. Obi-Wan's voice was a low rumble, and his hips slowed down even further. “It’s not up to you, Padawan.”

“I know, Master, I know, I know…” Anakin sighed. He tried to appreciate how amazing it felt—how incredible it felt to be under Obi-Wan, and feel his warm body above him, protecting and claiming him, fucking him with his thick cock. It felt so good, but it wasn't _enough_. Anakin rocked his hips back, trying to meet Obi-Wan’s thrusts, trying to be satisfied with what Obi-Wan was giving him, _but it wasn’t enough_. He almost felt like crying, and projected with more emotion into the bond, _“Please, Master, fuck me, use me, I want you to, I’m yours to...”_

Obi-Wan abruptly pushed back, and pulled his cock out. Anakin made a displeased noise that earned him a spank, and he moaned with pleasure at the sharp sensation. Obi-Wan muttered, “You are just impossible, sweetheart.”

Anakin's breath caught as he was suddenly turned over, and blinked with surprise at being manhandled. Obi-Wan moved him easily, and Anakin's eyes settled on his strong arms, and he whined. Obi-Wan's grip tightened as he set Anakin down, placing his hips back down on the pillow, and pulled his legs roughly over his shoulders. Anakin stared at the pink blush on Obi-Wan’s cheeks, the way his flush spread down to his chest. Anakin’s eyes followed the light hair on his chest, and the hard muscles of his stomach, down to Obi-Wan’s hard cock. 

He looked back up, and begged, “Please, please, Master, please fuck me, use me, _please.”_

Obi-Wan smirked at him, one hand holding his hips, the other guiding his cock back to press against Anakin’s ass. “I suppose you have been very good for me, Padawan.”

“I’ve tried, I’ve tried to stay still, you saw—” Anakin’s words stopped and his eyes rolled back as Obi-Wan thrust forward at the same time he pulled back on Anakin’s hips, sinking his cock in completely. Anakin whined, and Obi-Wan hummed with satisfaction at the sound, fucking him harder and harder. The sound of their hips slapping together filled the small room. 

“You like this? This better?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice rough with the exertion of fucking Anakin fast and hard. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, Force, yes,” Anakin moaned, the force of Obi-Wan’s thrusts moving his whole body. He was so deep, and Anakin was so full. _It felt so good_.

“Good,” Obi-Wan huffed. He shifted his angle, deliberately stroking his cock hard against Anakin’s prostate, making him groan with pleasure. Anakin was getting so hard again, already—his mind felt like it was dissolving, he was floating, he was seeing stars. 

Obi-Wan’s grip on Anakin’s hips tightened and he began fucking him deliberately, thrusting his cock again and again at the same place. “You like that, don’t you, Padawan.” 

“Yes, Master, thank you, _yes.”_ Anakin opened his eyes, and sought Obi-Wan’s gaze. He stared into the warm glow of gold and felt so safe, so important. “Master, I _love_ you, so much.”

Obi-Wan’s rhythm stuttered, and he grumbled, his pace picking back up. “You’re going to make me come, Anakin, I don’t want to come yet, I’m not nearly done fucking you.” They both stared at the place where Obi-Wan’s cock was sinking into his body, taking him and claiming him. 

Anakin panted, “You will fuck me again, and again, I promise, Master, _again.”_

“Again?” Obi-Wan’s eyes met his, and they were vulnerable again. 

Anakin smiled at him, encouraging. His voice was breathless, “Yes, Master, again, whenever you want, however you want, you can fuck me, I'm yours to—”

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan groaned, fucking in hard one final time, his fingers squeezing tightly on Anakin’s hips. Anakin watched with fascination and pride as Obi-Wan’s eyes slid shut, and his body went tight. He could feel in the Force as Obi-Wan came, beginning to spill his come deep inside Anakin’s body. 

Anakin’s hand jumped to his own cock, rubbing it quickly and roughly, already so close to coming—he wanted to come with Obi-Wan’s cock in his ass, while Obi-Wan was coming inside him, filling him with his come. _Obi-Wan’s come was inside him._ The thought was enough to push him over the edge, and Anakin whined as he came again, too. 

The room was quiet, except for their breathing. The Force was circling and embracing them, and their bond was an imperceptible storm of pleasure and satisfaction. The boundaries between their minds felt so thin, and they were so close. He could hear the incredulous thoughts in the back of Obi-Wan's mind. _Anakin chose him, chose this, let him touch him, trusted him, it's all he'd ever wanted, ever dreamed of having..._

Obi-Wan slid out, and the intimacy of the moment faded slightly. Anakin let him move his legs, setting them down gently, using the end of his tabard to clean them both up. Neither of them spoke, the bond was speaking loud enough. They were so connected, so complete. _It was perfect._

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan broke the silence, and Anakin looked at him, surprised. His voice was low and sincere, and it made Anakin’s heart ache in the best possible way. 

“Yes?”

Obi-Wan sought his eyes, trying to make him understand. “Life doesn’t make sense without you. Nothing matters if you’re not there. I’m doing everything I can to kill Sidious so we can be together. Did Solon tell you about the Wellspring? About what we need to do?” 

Anakin nodded and hummed happily, pulling Obi-Wan down on top of him. He savored the contact of so much bare skin, their chests pressed close together, and he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan, holding him close while he still could. _Obi-Wan needed to leave soon, before Sidious got back. He didn’t want him to go…_

Obi-Wan answered his thoughts, exhaling hard and letting Anakin cradle him on his chest. “I’ll be gone before he comes back, I’ll be safe. I promise.” Anakin smiled as Obi-Wan took a deep breath, smelling his skin and relaxing at the scent. “I’ll tell you when I find the cave, and we can deal with him, together. We can be together again.”

“Yes,” Anakin agreed quietly, holding him even closer. He felt so safe, so happy, but he knew it was fleeting, and Obi-Wan’s time was running out. He squeezed his eyes closed. _They would have this again. They would kill Sidious. He knew it_. He kissed Obi-Wan’s temple and murmured. “We will kill him, Master. Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤️
> 
> Only two more chapters and then an epilogue! We're on the home stretch. I hope you enjoyed and found it worth the wait!


	22. Renaissance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a month to write, but I think it was worth it. I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for reading!

EXEGOL

Late 19BBY

As Darth Sidious landed on Exegol, his thoughts lingered on his Master.

It was a relatively rare occurrence for him to think about the old Muun, he mused. It had been decades since he had killed Darth Plagueis in his sleep, and he didn’t particularly enjoy dwelling on the time he’d spent as an Apprentice. It seemed almost _beneath_ him now to have ever been anything but the Master, anything but the Emperor. 

Nevertheless, the shadowy planet always reminded him forcibly of those early days. They had spent interminable hours together in Plagueis’s laboratory of dark experiments, testing the limits of what was possible with the Force. Sidious would never forget the enraptured expression on Plagueis’s long, pale face when he shared his suspicions about the true potential of midichlorians.

Immortality was the culmination of Plagueis’s theories, and Sidious had been assiduously working to complete the process himself. He had chosen Exegol, an unknown planet in the Unknown Regions, to host his own laboratory—maintained on a secret base by a group of Sith loyalists. They were a cult dedicated to the return of the Sith and the preservation of the Emperor, and Sidious thought that a cult was a rather nice thing to have. 

Work at the facility had been steady and productive, and he was cautiously optimistic about the timeline. Plagueis’s theories were sound, and Sidious had added his own private discoveries with what he had learned from holocrons like Darth Solon. Not that Sidious ever trusted Darth Solon’s word—not after what Solon did to Bane. 

Sidious would not be lured to his doom like his predecessor. Bane only survived Solon’s trap by having the foresight to bring a Midichlor to kill when the dagger demanded more blood than he was willing to shed himself. Sidious would certainly bring his own Midichlor, and more. _He was no fool._ Only after his contingency plans were stable would he attempt the ritual, and he estimated that day was finally drawing near. 

The ship gently touched down on the landing pad of the base, and Sidious stood, distractedly making sure that his hood rested correctly on his head so that it would cast a shadow upon his features, and tugged at his cloak to ensure it would flow properly as he walked. The ship’s crew bowed as he passed, and he lazily raised a hand to acknowledge them.

He exited the ship, and almost coughed. The atmosphere of Exegol was harsh on the lungs, but he still moved with deliberate slowness down the ship’s ramp and towards the building. He felt absolutely no need to rush—not when the entire galaxy moved at _his_ pace. 

Power was not just the lightning that poured from his fingers, he mused, not just in his mastery of the dark side of the Force. Power was also the intangible way that the world bent itself around his whim, suiting itself to fit his needs. His every act had cascading consequences beyond imagination. His every choice mattered to the entire galaxy. He was the center of everything, the ultimate authority. 

His power was almost complete and eternal. _Almost._

He nodded to Gallius Rax, the bright young man who he’d groomed for command since he’d discovered him on Jakku, of all places. He’d found Rax to be a highly useful tool, despite being not Force sensitive himself—an entirely _loyal_ creature, devoted to the cause. Sidious had recently moved the young man to oversee the work on Exegol, after he’d proven himself by successfully overseeing the installation of a Sith artifact cache on Jakku.

“My lord,” Rax bowed low in greeting. “Thank you for coming.”

“More good news, I hope?” Sidious asked in a low, satisfied voice. “Your last report was encouraging.”

“Very good news.” Rax smiled proudly, gesturing with a hand and leading Sidious into the lab. “The ninth batch proved stable. The growth acceleration caused no apparent deformities, and the new technology from Kamino has ensured that the process is replicable. The tenth batch is of equal, if not superior quality when compared to the ninth.” 

“Really?” Sidious smiled, baring his teeth. “What changed from the earlier batches?” 

Rax guided Sidious through the twisting corridors and down lifts, descending deep into the building and speaking with pride. “The insights of the Kaminoans really made the difference, my lord. They truly are the masters of the bioengineered Strand-Cast clone.” His voice was almost tinged with awe. “Their refinements on the method made the unprecedented growth acceleration you requested possible.”

Sidious nodded, swallowing down a familiar spike of anger at the memory of Darth Mendax’s invasion of the trailing region of the Outer Rim. The last minute evacuation of scientists and equipment from Kamino in the face of the wave of the Free Remulan Army had only been partial, and Sidious had worried that Mendax and the FRA had disrupted _another set of his plans too_. 

It appeared not, however. 

If his clones were indeed ready to act as new hosts for his consciousness, then Sidious was ready to take the final step in the process of securing immortality. It was the most difficult and risky step, requiring two Sith Lords to access the power to bind his consciousness against dissolution—one to serve as bait for the dark side, the other to be the vessel. 

Rax punched in a code and opened up the inner sanctum of the lab, dim except for the green light radiating from a long row of tanks, each containing a sedated, cloned body of Sidious. It was an uncanny sight, but a familiar one. Decades of work, finally drawing to conclusion, and just in time—he had an Apprentice to deal with. 

Sidious walked closer to the clones, frowning at the thought of Darth Vader’s various inadequacies as an Apprentice. It was so _disappointing_. Sidious had originally been almost ecstatic when he’d learned what Vader was—a Midichlor would be a strong Apprentice to have by his side, and would eventually be powerful bait for the dark side, making the impossible ritual possible.

At least Vader would still be good for something, despite his _conspicuous lack of loyalty._

Sidious was sure that by using him as bait, he would be able to harness the full power of the dark side. He would be free to use that power to fix and preserve the integrity of his consciousness against death—he would inherit and assimilate all the power of the siphoned through the Midichlor, and establish himself _outside of time_. 

Sidious would then be able to move between bodies, undamaged and undiminished, and rule immortal for ten thousand years. _A tantalizing prospect, indeed._ He assumed that Darth Vader’s life would be consumed in the process of being bait, and he was not overly saddened by that fact. 

Sidious frequently felt in the Force that Vader was conflicted about his missions. He usually completed them, but in a fashion that Sidious found infuriating. Vader took liberties with his orders, and that was unacceptable. He was growing too powerful and far too wilful, and punishing his students only proved to make his anger grow in the wrong ways. 

Sidious had originally imagined that he would use the Midichlor for an apprentice for _much_ longer than this, but he had been forced to come to terms with the fact that the idea belonged to his original set of plans—the plans where he had failed to take Darth Mendax into account. 

He wondered, with another spike of anger, _how could he have known?_ Master Kenobi had _surprised_ him, and Sidious was not one to be easily surprised. Everything that had happened in the year and a half that had passed since Order 66 had been similar but different from his expectations, and it all came back to Mendax. 

The possibility that the death of Vader would lead to Mendax growing exponentially in strength was not an attractive one—Sidious did not want to create an enemy for himself more powerful than he could destroy. However, he thought, there was also the possibility that Mendax would _die_ with Vader. That was a _very_ attractive proposition, growing more attractive by the day.

Sidious’s calculations about when was the right time to make his play for immortality had varied with the state of his clones and the state of the war. The pacification of the Outer Rim was going well, and the Empire was making advances along both the Hydian Way and the Perlemian Trade Route. Soon, New Remule—Zygerria, properly, he thought—would be squeezed between the pincers of the Empire’s superior force. 

Sidious was determined that he would crush the FRA out of existence. He thought that it was truly too bad the Death Star’s completion date was so far out—he would very much like to turn Zygerria into rubble beneath Mendax’s feet, and then let him be consumed in the flame as it exploded into trillions of infinitesimally small pieces. He wanted to utterly wipe out the old, renegade clone army, along with their delusion of an Empire of their own.

At this point, Sidious was more than willing to take the risk that Mendax would survive the severance of the dyad bond. One Sith was easier to handle than two. They were already conspiring against him through the bond, he was sure of it. The sooner he eliminated his rivals the safer he would be—both would only grow in strength and expertise. 

Sidious looked pensively at the blank face of the man suspended in bacta. Something was unnatural about him—perhaps it was the fact that the eyes were barely flicking behind the eyelids, or the complete limpness of the body. The clone was almost identical with a corpse, except for the way the chest was barely rising and falling with breath. 

The face of the clone was similar but different to his own—he was Strand-Cast, a modified version of Sidious’s genetic code. The Kaminoans had perfected it with their work on the clone army, mastering the alteration of the body and even the _mind_. These particular clones were inert, totally passive, and waiting for a consciousness to fill their brain with life. 

Looking down the row of clones was like looking in a warped mirror in time. The bodies waiting for him were all young, and strong, and essentially his own. He felt a wave of reassurance, and satisfaction. _The time had come._

“Very good indeed, Rax,” Sidious said. He rested a hand on the tank, and spoke absently. “Continue the project, I want multiple options in case one proves unexpectedly flawed upon receipt of my consciousness.” 

“Do you expect that to be soon?” Rax’s voice was tentative and uncomfortable. He coughed and tried again, “Are you expecting to need to… relocate… your consciousness soon, my lord?”

“The possibility exists, yes,” Sidious said, feeling a surge of anticipation and another emotion similar, but not identical, to _fear_. He studied the blank clone, eyes seeing past him into the possible future—the danger of the ritual, the unprecedented amount of darkness he would need to access. He gave Rax a curt nod. “I will notify you.”

“Of course,” Rax dipped his head again, and then turned to study at the clone as well. His voice was servile, and fervent. “We will be ready, my lord.”

—

RYLOTH

Cody had not been back to Ryloth since the invasion. On some level, he’d planned on _never_ returning. That particular mission, the _camps_ , still haunted his dreams. 

He’d spent hours earlier in the day walking around the tidy streets of Nabat, and it was hard to believe that it was the same place at all. The streets were busy, the shops were open. Children ran around, playing noisily. _The scent of death had dissipated._

Without the Hutts and the slavers, and with the assistance of debt relief and reconstruction efforts, Ryloth was experiencing a period of unexpected peace and prosperity. As the rest of the galaxy crumbled, this tiny pocket of the Outer Rim had not been touched with war since late 22BBY.

It’d been almost three years—three years of nonstop hell for Cody out there fighting a never-ending war. He found it comforting to know that _here_ at least, some people had found peace. It was just so strange for him to be in a peaceful place for a peaceful reason. 

A few months after Order 66, Boil had retired from Ghost Company and volunteered to join a squad going to be stationed on Ryloth. He was very happy, and Waxer retired a few months after that, joining him there. Both had quickly fallen in love with local Twi’lek women, to Cody’s complete lack of surprise. 

Boil and his fiancée were already expecting a child, and were getting married in a double wedding with Waxer and his own fiancée. Cody had torn himself away from the front lines to be there, at General Kenobi’s polite _request_. 

It had been so hard to leave the other Commanders in charge, even for a day. The invasion of the Rim was brutal, and bloody, and they needed all available men at the front. It was almost negligent for him to be here, he thought anxiously, no matter how much the General had insisted that he had to come with him to honor both Waxer and Boil.

As he looked at the faces of Ghost Company, and the other staff officers of the 212th who stood in the first few rows of the hall, Cody felt a nagging sense of irresponsibility. The FRA was losing large chunks of the spinward rim each day, and Munnlinest had recently been retaken by the Empire. Imperial forces were day by day advancing on New Remule. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the war, unable to focus on the charming, Mandalorian-style wedding. Their primary problem, in his opinion, was that the Remulan capital was too easily flanked. Geography was helping the Empire, splitting the already numerically inferior FRA forces in half—there were two hyperspace routes to New Remule that they had to defend with a strong blockade on both fronts. 

In addition to that, many of the clones had retired, and their replacements had nowhere near their level of training and expertise. It was tough going, and Cody _needed_ to get back to the war. He sighed and tried to refocus on what was going on, and felt the General beside him give him a knowing look. He sighed again, more quietly, and tried to remind himself that _he could let himself have five minutes of peace, at least._

Commander Tano stood on the other side of the General, and Cody overheard her quietly murmuring questions. Her voice was low, but unmistakable, “What do the vows mean, Master Obi-Wan?” 

Kenobi smiled slightly, and recited in an undertone, _“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome,_ we are one when together, we are one when apart. _Mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde,_ we will share all, and we will raise warriors.”

Tano hummed in appreciation. “Nice. I never really learned Mando’a, except what the clones used in the war. Mostly swearing, I suppose.” She bounced on the balls of her feet, and then shot Kenobi a look. “Mando’a wasn’t a core language for younglings at the Temple. I don’t even remember it being an elective. Why do you know it so well?”

“No particular reason,” the General said, turning his head back to the front. “Just a mission.” 

Kenobi abruptly stiffened in that familiar way of his, and looked to his right. His eyes focused on something nobody else could see, his expression became intense. Cody made eye contact with Tano and then they both looked warily at Kenobi. 

Tano asked, voice quiet, “Is he here?”

Kenobi nodded, and Cody clenched his jaw. He remembered vividly when Tano had protected the General from Skywalker back on the day of Order 66. He’d even seen a flash of Skywalker, when the _Jetiise_ had crossed blades. Skywalker had looked insane, and Cody had not _gotten over it_ the way Kenobi seemingly had—especially after Skywalker had gutted his General like a fish.

Tano had managed to avoid him so far, mostly by virtue of the fact that she was rarely in the same place as Kenobi for a very long time. 

“He is asking to see you, Ahsoka,” Kenobi muttered, looking slightly frustrated. 

The ceremony was just finishing up, and they all clapped and watched Boil lead his bride—a beautiful, blue, and visibly pregnant Twi’lek—out of the hall, followed by Waxer and his own grinning wife. The rest of the crowd began to follow them out, cheering them on and murmuring excitedly about the open bar. 

Kenobi looked cautiously at Tano, making no movement to join the crowd. “Are you interested in talking to him? You know you are still under no obligation to do so.”

Cody stood awkwardly by Kenobi’s side, knowing in his special, intuitive way that the General wanted him to stay to talk as soon as this was done. Cody’s comlink lit up, and he quickly realized he was getting a report on a high priority channel. Appreciating the excuse, he stepped aside and pulled out his data pad, absently watching the Commander consider Skywalker’s request. After a long moment, she nodded. 

Kenobi looked around to make sure that they were the only ones left in the room, and then reached out a hand. Cody looked down and began to read, a swell of excitement beginning to fill his chest when he realized the exact contents of the report. _Finally…_

_Thwack!_

Cody looked up sharply at the sound of a fist hitting a face. He grinned uncharacteristically when he realized that the instant that Skywalker had become visible, Tano had leapt forward and punched him hard in the jaw. 

Skywalker straightened, rubbing his jaw and looking happily at Tano, eyes flicking from her montrals to her dress armor to her practical boots. 

She shook out her hand and crossed her arms, looking unimpressed at Skywalker. “What?”

“Ahsoka, I’m so sorry,” Skywalker said seriously, his hand dropping from his face. “I’m sorry about attacking you, about everything.”

Tano’s face was neutral, but her eyes were sharp. Cody thought that she must have learned that expression from General Kenobi. Her voice was equally mild. “Being sorry doesn’t make what you did go away.”

“I know,” Skywalker said, the corners of his lips quirking up briefly in a sad, private smile. _He’d probably seen Kenobi in her expression too._ “I will make it better, Ahsoka. I know I can’t make it right, but I’ll make it better. I promise that I’m trying. I’m sorry…” He trailed off, apparently out of things to say.

The mask on Tano’s face cracked and she dove forward, wrapping him in a hug and holding him tightly. 

Skywalker sighed, and wrapped his free arm around her, hugging her close in return. “Thank you, Ahsoka, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Master,” Tano’s voice was thick. Skywalker held her even tighter. Kenobi was watching both of them, a relieved expression on his face. 

“You’ve gotten so much taller,” Skywalker complained, measuring the top of her montrals. “You’re growing too fast, Snips.”

“Maybe you’re shrinking, Skyguy,” Ahsoka teased. “You’re going to end up like Master Yoda.” 

Skywalker huffed a laugh, and then the moment became more than slightly uncomfortable. Tano sniffed and cling onto Skywalker more tightly, and Kenobi rested a hand on her shoulder.

Cody looked back down at his report, pulling his eyes away from the reunion. He skimmed down the summary and abruptly remembered the reason for his earlier excitement. He cleared his throat, making all three _Jetiise_ fix their eyes on him. The General looked especially curious, and Cody assumed that he could feel the bubbling emotion that was beginning to fill Cody’s stomach—a strange, rare feeling of _hope_.

He kept his voice as calm as possible, “If I can interrupt, General, they’ve found a place on Tatooine that may be the cave.”

“What?” Kenobi said sharply. “Really?”

Cody nodded, passing his data pad to the General. “None of the men can approach it, sir. That's why it's taken so long. They’ve mapped out the area and know that it exists from aerial footage, but men on the ground… they all turn back. Apparently it feels awful, just… radiating pain.”

Kenobi and Skywalker exchanged a meaningful look. 

“I’ll get him to go,” Skywalker said slowly, his statement inflected up into a question. Kenobi looked unsure, and Skywalker raised his brows, “I’ll tell him I had the dream, the pool, like Solon said. I have a meeting with him in a couple hours. Do you want me to do it then? Should I wait?”

Kenobi nodded crisply, seemingly having made up his mind. “There is no point in any delay. Tell him as soon as you can. I’ll make sure to be at the cave, Padawan. I’ll order the invasion of Coruscant first, and go directly to Tatooine.” Skywalker nodded, and Kenobi squeezed his hand tightly. “See you soon, love. May the Force be with you.”

It never got less weird to Cody to hear General Kenobi talk like that. _It’s one thing to know, another thing to see and hear._ Cody rolled his eyes to the ceiling, and sighed. 

“May the Force be with you too, Obi-Wan,” Skywalker echoed him, and looked at Ahsoka. “Good luck, Snips.”

“You too, Master,” she took a shaky breath. “Be safe.” 

Skywalker nodded at her, smiling fondly, and then let go of Kenobi’s hand. The room was very quiet in his sudden absence. 

“It’s time,” the General said quietly, and Cody felt a shiver down his spine and rolled his shoulders back. There was a calm intensity in Kenobi’s tone that made Cody instinctively stand at attention, ready for his orders. Cody noticed Ashoka straighten as well, her hands resting absently on her lightsabers. 

Kenobi began to pace, thinking out loud. “Ahsoka, order the auxiliary forces already mustered at the hyperspace lanes to move on Coruscant, and join them in the assault. I need you to lead and supervise the invasion force, like we discussed.” 

Tano nodded once, and Kenobi’s gaze snapped to Cody’s face. “Cody, the legions also need to be prepared to send reinforcements. We _have_ to secure the Imperial capital, at all costs. Prepare the hollowing out procedure we talked about. We need as many ships free to move as possible.”

“The blockade will break if we do that, General,” Cody grumbled, his eyes following Kenobi’s progress back and forth. _He had a bad feeling about this._ “The auxiliaries have to handle it on their own, or I think we will lose New Remule.”

“I know, Cody. The timing is difficult, but not impossible.” General Kenobi stopped and ran a hand over his face. He already looked exhausted. “Hopefully we can kill Sidious quickly, take power, and call off the Imperial assault before… before we lose our own capital.”

“I will see that the legions are ready to move, General,” Cody said, his voice a low reassurance. “On both fronts.”

“And I will supervise the invasion of Coruscant,” Tano confirmed her role in the plan with a slightly displeased expression. “Like we _discussed.”_

“Thank you, both of you,” Kenobi sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly in relief. “We don’t have much time. I suppose it’s thanks to the Force that we’re already only a few parsecs away from Tatooine.” He spoke quickly into his comlink, requesting his ship be readied for takeoff, and gave Cody one final nod before turning to go. “Ahsoka, walk with me.”

Cody watched the _Jetiise_ leave, and ran a hand down his face. He figured it was up to him to explain to Waxer and Boil why the General had to leave early. _At least they’d both been able to come at all._ Cody felt a surge of gratitude to Kenobi for pulling him away from the perpetual war, and forcing him to have at least a moment of peace. 

He shook his head slightly, and walked quickly for the door. There was much to be done, and very little time to do it. _As usual._

—

CORUSCANT

The thing about being struck with Force lightning, Anakin mused from the floor, was that it never stopped hurting. Every single time, the pain was just as fresh and consuming as the time before. The medical droids assured him his brain seemed to be protecting itself somehow with the Force, and that there was no internal sign of damage. 

He sure _felt_ brain damaged. 

“And did I give you permission to do that, Lord Vader?” Sidious’s voice was cold. 

“N-no, Master,” Anakin muttered, thinking that the texture of the carpet in Sidious's office had become far too familiar. He pushed himself back up to a knee, bowing his head again and swallowing his anger. He vowed to himself, _this was the last time._ “You did not.”

Sidious sat heavily on his chair, and gave Anakin a dirty look. “Will you explain to me why you did it _anyway?”_

Anakin coughed, his hands were shaking. He made his voice as strong as possible, “The native forces on Honoghr were able to defeat Stormtroopers with nothing more than primitive bladed weapons. It was impressive, Master. All I did was promise that the Empire would restore their planet's ecosystem in exchange for them joining the military. The Separatists destroyed their jungles by accident during the war—all of the plants and animals died on the surface, and they were starving. It seemed fair.”

“To who?”

“What?” Anakin looked up, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean, Master?”

Sidious scoffed, “Master indeed. Who did your plan seem fair to? You?”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said slowly, trying to read the level of true anger in Sidious’s frustrated expression. 

“You had no authority to make such a deal!” More lightning burst forward, striking him in the chest. Anakin curled around the pain, falling to the floor again. _A high level of anger, it seemed._ The lightning stopped, and then he was hit with a short burst for good measure. Sidious hissed, “All deals need to seem fair to _me, the Emperor, not you, my foolish young Apprentice!”_

Anakin took a shaky breath, blinking quickly and tasting blood. He must have bitten his tongue _again_. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and clenched his jaw at the red streak. He pushed himself back up to kneeling, refusing to stay down. “Yes, Master.”

“Good,” Sidious said, tone dangerous. “It will not be repeated again, Vader. I grow extremely weary of your insolence.”

“Of course, Lord Sidious,” Anakin nodded, feeling this nausea beginning to subside. He took a deep breath. “May I ask for your advice, Master?”

“About what?” Sidious picked up his data pad, and began scrolling through its content quickly. He sounded unwilling to listen to him, and Anakin swallowed, tasting the metallic tang of blood again. 

“I’ve been having dreams that I don’t understand,” he said quickly. “It’s like with my mother, but there are no people other than us, and a pool of black water. Do you know what it means, Master?”

Sidious’s eyes flashed, and he lowered the data pad. “Repeat that more slowly.”

“I’ve been having dreams?” Anakin said more slowly, his tone unsteady. Being struck repeatedly with lightning was probably the only time he would ever be able to lie to Sidious effectively, or at least that was what Obi-Wan had told him. All his usual tells were consistent with the symptoms of repeated electrocution. _He could do this._ “There’s nobody in them but us and a pool of dark water. I don’t understand what it means.”

“No,” Sidious smiled slowly, a predator’s leer. “You would not understand. I, however, do understand.”

“Really, Master?” Anakin pulled his shoulders back, trying to stay upright. “What does it mean?”

Sidious steepled his fingers and gave Anakin a piercing glance. “There is a very powerful Force vortex called the Wellspring under the new Imperial Palace. During renovations, I discovered the pathways down to the ancient Sith shrine, but had not yet considered it a priority to explore it. We will have to explore it together, I think.”

“Explore it?” Anakin said, frowning slightly. “What do you mean explore?”

“The site is extremely powerful with the dark side,” Sidious stood, and walked closer, moving with his characteristic slowness. He gestured for Anakin to rise, and Anakin stood as smoothly as possible. _His hands were still shaking._ Sidious pointed him toward the door. “Arguably, the Wellspring is the most powerful location in the galaxy.”

Anakin walked beside him, clasping his hands behind his back. “Why am I dreaming of it?”

“I believe the darkness is calling to you, Lord Vader. It is calling out to the Midichlor. It wants you to find it.”

“Why, Master?” Anakin asked, trying to keep his voice calm as they exited Sidious’s office. “What does it want with me?”

Lord Sidious gave him something like a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but the grip slightly too tight. “Sites like the Wellspring are almost sentient, my boy. I think it would like to speak with you.”

“Oh,” Anakin said, brow furrowing. _That was such bantha poodoo._ “And I need to go there for that to happen?”

They entered the lift together, and Sidious requested the hangar level. Anakin tried not to let his surprise show on his fact that his lie had worked so easily, and they were going directly to the Temple—Sidious must have just been waiting for an excuse to go. 

Sidious asked curiously, “What did it show in your dream? Were you in the water?” 

“Standing in the water, yes,” Anakin answered cautiously, trying to remember what Solon had told him to say. “You were on the bank.”

“Well, there you go then,” Sidious’s voice was reassuring. “The Wellspring wants to talk to you.”

“Alright, Master,” Anakin said, seeming to shrug off his confusion. “If you say so.”

Sidious pointed him toward a ship, and murmured with satisfaction, “Let’s find out what it wants to say.”

—

TATOOINE

By the time Obi-Wan arrived at the coordinates for the cave, the two suns were setting in the distance. 

The rocky canyon had been difficult for him to navigate by foot, and they hadn’t been able to land the ship any closer due to the terrain. The path was rocky, and slippery, and as he’d drawn closer and closer, troopers had dropped off one by one, all citing various different reasons to return back to the ship. 

Obi-Wan understood why. There was such a powerful taint to the cave that it was even affecting those not usually sensitive to the Force. Their subconscious minds could tell that something was wrong, and it triggered the natural instinct to flee suffering and avoid pain. It was the inverse reaction to when some were drawn to churches and concert halls, not truly understanding why. People instinctively craved the deep, soothing tint of joy and serenity in the Force. Their subconscious mind reacted to the emotional energy that hummed beneath direct perception. 

The cave emanated more suffering than Obi-Wan had ever felt before—and he’d been in some of the worst places in the galaxy. He’d seen people at their most angry, their most afraid. He’d stood in the slave pens of Zygerria, and it was nothing compared to _this._

Eventually, Obi-Wan was continuing on alone. 

He felt the suffering too, and it pained and repelled him—but unlike the others, he also felt the attractiveness of the power of the dark side emanating from the cave. He felt almost more powerful just standing downwind from the cave, and his heart beat faster the closer he came. The Force was pulling him closer, tugging him in. He felt sick, and he felt relieved. _Finally._

He looked back over his shoulder one more time at the wide, silent vista of the Jundland Wastes, washed in warm evening light. 

Living through what he’d lived before in a dream was always a _strange_ experience. Although it had been happening as long as he could remember, it never grew less uncanny and uncomfortable. It always felt like closing a loop, or cresting a wave—resynchronizing with himself. 

He shook his head and looked back with concern at the mouth of what looked like a natural cavern in the rocky hill. The entrance was so dark, his eyes almost couldn’t focus on it. It was uncannily devoid of light, blacker than the blackest night.

Obi-Wan squared his shoulders and walked through the wall of darkness. He smiled faintly at the familiar beams of light from the setting suns that accompanied him as he stepped over the threshold. As he expected, the air felt different inside, as if he’d entered a different world. He listened for the sound of dripping water, and found it just as hauntingly inexplicable as always in such a dry space. He cast his eyes quickly over the familiar ornate carvings on the walls, watching the sunlight decay into darkness. 

He focused on the altar, and frowned. It really did seem to consume light as it came into contact—in person the stone did not appear to be a stone at all, not really. Obi-Wan walked closer, fixing his gaze on the large, ornate silver knife buried blade down in the altar of solid-seeming Force condensate. 

The blade was filigreed to be covered in the twisting form of a language he couldn’t read, presumably in some ancient Sith script. It was just as frustrating _now_ as it had been every other time he’d seen it before. He swallowed, remembering the dreams, their pacing. It was almost time—any moment Anakin would arrive with Sidious. 

Obi-Wan frowned, and unclipped his lightsaber, just in case. 

Now all he had to do was wait.

—

CORUSCANT

The chamber beneath the Temple had been surprisingly easy to reach. Sidious had not been joking about tunnels that led straight there. Anakin almost felt frustrated that he could walk easily to the most dangerous site in the galaxy. He could have walked there _at any time_ as a Padawan, if he’d known to look.

The Wellspring had been _waiting_ for him beneath the Temple the whole time. 

He suspected that ever since he’d arrived on Coruscant as a boy, he must have felt it on some level, more than any other Jedi. His heightened sensitivity to the Force would certainly have picked up the persistent, leeching discomfort of the tainted site. _Maybe that’s why he’d never been comfortable in the Temple._ Standing now on the banks of the wide, shallow pool, Anakin crossed his arms and huffed in frustration. “Well, it doesn’t look like much.”

“Force condensate is incredibly dense and incredibly rare, Apprentice,” Sidious murmured. He was looking with a carefully blank face at the inky black liquid. The room around them was cavernous and shadowy, some light filtering in from the hallway. They had both ignited their sabers for additional light, filling the room with their red glow and muted hum. 

“What should I do?” Anakin asked quietly. “I don’t hear it speaking to me.” 

There was a sound of trickling water, the condensate seemed to cling to the walls and drip down, all funneling back down to the half-empty pool, but there were no voices. _Only an ache that he felt in his bones—all that suffering and the power it created, the dark energy sucking him in._

“Well, you must enter it, Vader,” Sidious snapped at him. “It won’t do anything if you’re here on the bank with me. You must enter the water.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin grumbled, thumbing off his lightsaber and placing it back on his belt. He took a deep, steadying breath. _He felt only suffering, and power._ “Here we go.”

“Good,” Sidious sounded extremely pleased. “Tell me what you _hear,_ Lord Vader.”

Anakin gave him a sideways look at his tone, and stepped off the shore into the shallow water. He walked further toward the middle, but it never seemed to get any deeper—the liquid only came up to the sides of his boots, and he shot a confused glance at Sidious, who was looking at his feet hungrily. 

Anakin looked down too, and his eyes widened. 

It was as if he were being dipped in water, with liquid slowly making him wet, rising up his calves and soaking his boots. It both was and was not water—it clung to him, but he couldn’t feel it. It was a liquid, a solid, and a gas, all at once. It was surrounding and encompassing him, crawling up his legs. 

It was so strange—it had no pressure, no temperature, but his body was beginning to look like he was soaking wet. _He was beginning to assimilate the power—more power than he’d ever dreamed was possible. The aching, searing agony of the dark side was singing to him, dancing around him, embracing him, welcoming him…_

Anakin asked, slightly afraid, “Master, what is happening?” The inky wetness had reached his chest now, his tabards becoming soaked and heavy with Force condensate. It was rising, and rising quickly. 

“The dark side of the Force is being pulled forth from the Wellspring,” Sidious said with a wide grin. “Like bait, you attract it.”

“Bait? I hate being bait,” Anakin glowered at Sidious. 

He took a deep breath as the Force condensate brushed his neck, and suddenly he was dunked under, his vision going black for a moment before becoming sharper than it had ever been before. He felt his curls drop limp and wet on his forehead—his heart was pounding, his lungs full of darkness—a gas, a liquid, a solid. 

_He was drowning, and he was breathing easily for the first time. He couldn’t breathe, and the air was so sweet and refreshing. He was a human, and he was a supernova. The power burned in his chest, and it ached to be spent. It hurt, and it felt amazing._

Anakin absently moved his hand up to push his hair back, and blinked. He raised and lowered his hand again, slower this time, and swallowed hard. 

As he moved, light bent toward him in strange ways, causing refracted pearlescent rainbows to flash and disappear in the air around him. He was so immersed in the attractive power of the dark side, that even the light bent toward his power. 

He felt like his humanity was ebbing and flowing, present and absent. He was here, and there, both inside and outside his body. He felt everyone’s pain all at once, and pulled it all inside him, feeling that it was ready and willing for him to use to bend reality to his will. Anakin wanted to laugh and wanted to sob. He felt like he could rip a planet in half with his bare hands, he was so full of power. He felt like he was being ripped in half, he was so full of suffering. 

The darkness was all based in pain, loss, fear, rage. It was an equal and opposite reactive force, the emotions needed to survive whatever suffering life placed upon sentient life. The Wellspring was the distillation of all the crushed and wasted emotion, the combined force of billions of sentients for thousands of years. _It hurt so much, and it felt incredible._

“How does it feel?” Sidious asked, his voice covetous. “You seem to be fully saturated with power.”

“I feel like a bomb that’s about to detonate,” Anakin said shakily, pained and ecstatic. “I feel like I’m being ripped apart.”

Sidious nodded, “Do you see the path? Do you see a door?” 

Anakin closed his eyes, and reached out, feeling for Obi-Wan. _He had no idea what Sidious was talking about_. He pushed and felt his consciousness somehow reach easily across the galaxy. He knew exactly where Obi-Wan was, and how to get there. He felt a strong pull of the dark side, a bridge linking them across. 

_He knew how to walk that bridge._

He mutely reached out a hand, and Sidious took it.

—

WORLD BETWEEN WORLDS

Anakin saw Obi-Wan, and he grinned with satisfaction.

_They’d done it, he’d made it._

In an instant, Anakin realized that he had both stepped across the galaxy, and that he also hadn’t moved at all. He could hear the sound of the condensate trickling into the Wellspring, and he could feel the heat of Tatooine. He’d _folded_ the galaxy, bringing Obi-Wan and the knife back to the Wellspring. They were somehow in _both_ places, and _neither_ place—but somewhere in between.

Anakin finally understood what Solon had meant. They were both inside and outside of space-time, and probably distributed through it. They’d entered total reality, the most real place.

The amount of power that Anakin was channeling made him feel intoxicated, heightened, superhuman. His heart was racing, he felt both soaked and dry—almost vibrating with dark energy. His eyes were probably shining gold, and rainbows still flashed in the corner of his eye as he moved. 

_So much power, from so much suffering. The knife was like a dam, holding the condensate of the altar back from rejoining the Wellspring. It wanted to be healed, it wanted to return to itself—the knife had to be removed. How?_

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at their sudden appearance, his neutral expression growing wary. Anakin dropped Sidious’s hand, and said gleefully, “Obi-Wan!” at the exact same time that Sidious growled, “Mendax.”

“Hello,” Obi-Wan dipped his head, and drew closer. Anakin smiled at his calm demeanor, the way his unlit lightsaber swung almost casually in his hand. “Safe trip?”

Sidious raised his hands, shooting a massive torrent of lightning directly at Obi-Wan’s chest. Obi-Wan immediately raised and ignited his lightsaber to catch it—but Anakin frowned, and raised a hand. The lightning stopped, flickered, and died.

He looked at Sidious, almost irritably. “Don’t touch my Master.”

Sidious narrowed his eyes, and Obi-Wan smiled fondly at him, “Thank you, dear one.”

Sidious raised a hand, as if to snap Obi-Wan’s neck, and Anakin completely lost his temper. He instinctively used the power in his veins to capture and hold Sidious. It seemed almost trivial to grab him and manipulate him from the inside out, directly controlling him by the midichlorians.

Sidious’s eyes went wide, but he could not otherwise move. Anakin raised a hand, and dragged his body over to the altar, and arranged him so that his hands were laid on top of the stone, which rippled at his touch, both solid and liquid. As soon as his hands touched, Sidious began to scream in agony.

Anakin nodded to Obi-Wan almost formally, and stepped behind the altar. Obi-Wan’s eyes were full of concern, and his eyes flicked to the still-screaming Sidious, whose hands were buried in the altar now, or rather the altar had begun to consume him by the hands, the dark smoke curling around him, pulling him in.

Anakin took a deep breath and grabbed the exposed part of the blade with his bare hand. It was so sharp that it immediately sliced him deeply, and red blood ran down the blade and pooled around the spot where the knife entered the stone. 

The blood appeared to sink in, and Anakin immediately used his bloody hand to grab the hilt and pull it out. The altar began to tremble, Sidious’s screams increased in pitch and volume. In the same motion as pulling the knife free, Anakin slashed the knife sideways, and the screams stopped in an instant as Sidious’s neck parted, his lifeblood pouring out onto the altar.

As Anakin brought the hand wielding the bloody knife back to his side, he looked down, eyes widening. The altar was _following the blade_ , pouring up through the dagger into Anakin’s arm. 

It hurt, so much. He looked down and realized that inky blackness was beginning to spread in the pool beneath his feet, through his grounding, sliding back through him into the Wellspring.

More and more of the altar poured into the blade, and Anakin looked at Obi-Wan one last time, eyes fixing on his horrified face, and took one last gasping breath before—

_Sound stopped, sight stopped, breath stopped._

Anakin felt himself begin to be ripped into a million tiny pieces, and then he didn’t feel anything at all. 

—

Anakin dropped. 

The blackness was pooling out around him now, spreading out like blood, more and more of it, refilling the Wellspring. Dark energy streamed through his limp body from the altar to the floor.

“No!” Obi-Wan shouted, the sound echoing strangely. His footsteps were so _loud_ as he crossed quickly to Anakin’s side and dropped to his knees. 

His awareness was split between reality and the Force. He could see Anakin’s face losing color and his breathing getting shallower, and he could also see the essence of Anakin—his mind and his heart, the light of his living Force—was being siphoned away.

_Anakin was dying, and he was dying quickly._

“No,” Obi-Wan said sharply, cupping Anakin’s expressionless face with one hand, the other stroking his hair. “No, no, no!”

Anakin was so _still,_ his chest barely rising and falling. His eyes were closed, his body prone, and the bloody silver knife was clenched tight in his fist. The altar’s stolen energy was flowing back out into reality through his body, his mind, his life. 

Obi-Wan realized that Solon had lied about one final thing. Anakin was never supposed to survive this— _n_ _obody could possibly survive that much energy passing through them. Not even a Midichlor…_

“Anakin, stay with me,” Obi-Wan murmured, the creeping dread of his realization making his voice and his hands shake. He felt like he was choking, and he tried to swallow. “You can’t leave me, I need you. I won’t let you…”

Obi-Wan looked up and realized that they weren’t in the cave anymore—they were in a pool of dark water in an infinite black chamber. It seemed as if touching Anakin had pulled him inside the altar too, including himself as part of the ground. The darkness was flowing through him now, too.

He felt like he was being filled with the dark side like a vessel being filled with black water. As Anakin died, he swelled in strength, and his consciousness was becoming flushed with power. He knew suddenly that to keep all this dark energy inside himself would mean that he would persist immortal, alone, unchanging, outside and inside of time—a _monster_. Without Anakin.

It was _intolerable._

He cupped Anakin’s face in his hand, stroking his cheekbone, horror in his gut at the breathless body, the motionless face. _Anakin was gone.  
_

All of the darkness inside him boiled with indignation— _Anakin couldn’t die, not now, not here._

The dark side called to him to change it, fix it, spend the power and set it free. He pressed a kiss on Anakin’s lips and pulled back, shoving his mind out into the infinite expanse of the unifying Force. The dark energy moved through him in a mighty rush, and ripped his consciousness away from himself, pushing him _outside_ of the moment—suddenly Obi-Wan was _somewhere, everywhere, always, now_. 

He was inside and outside of the Force, seeing everything all at once. It was a dizzying, disorienting, impossible view—something not meant for mortal eyes. He _was_ the will of the Force in this, it was _him_ , it had always been _him_. 

Obi-Wan could see his whole life all at once, a ribbon through space-time. All the dark energy of the altar, all of Anakin’s life force, had struck him and combined inside him in that moment, and it looked like a bell rang in the fabric of the Force. He saw ripples of darkness emanating out from this moment down his timeline, moving in a wave through in time and space.

Obi-Wan realized in that dizzying moment that _he’d_ been the one to destabilize and displace his own consciousness. He’d given all his prophetic dreams _to himself_. All the way back to when he was a tiny youngling, tugging at the tabards of his guardians, asking about things he could not have known, not _yet_. 

_It had always been this moment, here and now, that had altered him, there and then._

He blinked and somehow looked _deeper_ and saw the wave also moving forward in time, rippling out and diminishing until the time of his death, far in the future. This massive pulse of dark energy peaked _now, here, in this very moment._ He was somehow wielding the ultimate power of the dark side of the Force. It was all his, he was a vessel, and he was full to the brim with power. 

But where was _Anakin?_

Obi-Wan reached out further into the unifying Force, pushing beyond himself, searching for the familiar, precious light of Anakin’s mind and heart. He found it almost immediately in the past—it was already woven so close. Anakin was a brilliant thread of consciousness that wound towards this point in space and this moment in time, and then abruptly _stopped_. 

Obi-Wan felt sick. Anakin had _died_ here, _died_ now—his consciousness had been split back into infinite tiny shards of life, distributed back out into the Force. His timeline was finished, his ribbon cut short. _Too short, far too short._

It was _intolerable._

Obi-Wan felt an overwhelming surge of intent to bring Anakin _back_. He threw himself open, and pushed out all the power, giving it to him, giving it back to the Force. He made himself completely vulnerable, offering an empty space for Anakin’s consciousness to fill and inviting Anakin’s infinite pieces to return to their _home_. 

Obi-Wan rejected Darth Sidious’s dream of becoming a monster. He rejected immortality—he would rather die than live forever without Anakin. He knew Anakin had died in that cave, but he refused to let his life end like this. 

_Anakin couldn’t leave, couldn’t be gone—he had to stay, he had to come home._

Without understanding how, Obi-Wan began to use all his inherited power to bind them together into one—releasing a massive swell of power reaching into the past and future, spinning Anakin’s thread into his, uniting them, and creating an uncuttable bond. 

He wound their threads together, understanding that it had been _him_ folding space the whole time, bringing them together, _always_ and _now_. The impossible wave of darkness that powered the Force bond was really spinning around Anakin’s timeline, yanking him close, and the Force was reknitting itself at all the folded places. 

Obi-Wan realized that he was _fixing_ the tear in the cosmos created by Bane’s knife. Each instance of the Force bond connecting them across space-time, was a stitch in the Force. They’d somehow been healing the tear in the heart of everything the whole time, _always_ and _already_ stopping the curse’s siphoning of darkness. 

Obi-Wan ignored the cosmic implications, desperate to accomplish his task. He looked back to the beginning of Anakin’s thread and anchored Anakin’s birth into his timeline, joining them together. He growled as he realized that the dark energy of the bond gave himself the blasted prophetic dreams of fucking Anakin. 

He suddenly also knew that the dreams had been necessary. They hadn’t been warnings, they hadn’t been promises. They had been _commands_. 

Obi-Wan was ruthless with his past self, despite remembering the discomfort and insecurity he was forcing himself to feel. He _needed_ himself to have lived the same life that led him to this moment. He _needed_ to have shared midichlorians with Anakin—no matter the cost, no matter the pain, no matter the grief. 

He _had_ to save Anakin, here and now. He was willing to be stabbed a thousand times to bring him back. 

With a final surge of willpower, Obi-Wan reached deep in the Force, pouring out what remained of his power, seeking all traces of Anakin’s consciousness. He begged all of the shards of Anakin’s consciousness for permission, inviting him to rejoin him, offering him everything—offering him his own _life_.

If Anakin returned, he swore, they would live together, die together, be one life in two bodies, a true dyad in the Forc _e._ They could prove that Bane’s attempt to weave a deep teaching bond with the Rule of Two had been _nothing_ but a pale imitation of the strength of the Force bond possible between a dyad. There was no stronger force in the universe than the love binding their dyad together. 

Obi-Wan somehow began to gather the scattered pieces of Anakin in the Force, putting them back together inside himself and pushing them back into Anakin’s breathless body. He poured his power out with his request, darkness woven into his words, speaking Anakin back to life. 

He pressed another kiss on Anakin’s lips and laid his hand on Anakin’s heart, whispering fervently, _“Anakin, please, please come home, please choose me. I don’t want to live in a world without you! I need you! I promise, we’ll be one when together, one when apart!”_

Obi-Wan realized he was quoting the Mandalorian wedding vows from earlier in the day, and it made him take a rough breath, almost a sob. Anakin was still _gone._ He swallowed and began to repeat it like a mantra, under his breath, reaching desperately into the Force with his invitation, _“One when together, one when apart, one when together, one when apart…”_

—

_“One when together, one when apart, one when together, one when apart, one when together, one when apart…”_

Anakin felt like he was rising up through dark water, but there was no temperature, no pressure—only a dim beam of light refracting down through the water, guiding him to the surface. Closer and closer, he was almost there, almost to _the voice, the light, his home…_

Suddenly, he broke through the surface and gasped hard, completely starved for oxygen. He opened his eyes wide, blinking quickly, trying to regain a sense of where he was, who he was, what he was. 

_He’d been somewhere else, and something else, he was sure of it. He’d heard—_

“Obi-Wan!” he gasped, eyes finally focused on Obi-Wan’s face, peering anxiously down at him. He looked completely _wrecked_. “Obi-Wan, what?” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, like it was the only word that mattered. He took a shaky breath, his hand cupping Anakin’s face, his gaze intense. “Anakin, you’re _alive.”_

“I am,” Anakin confirmed, still breathless. He tried to sit up, and Obi-Wan frowned at him, gently using his hand on his chest to keep him down, his hand on his cheek to keep him still. Anakin gave him a small smile, and affectionately pushed his head into Obi-Wan’s hand. He took another shaky breath. “I don’t think I was, though.”

“No, you were not.” Obi-Wan’s voice was choked, and he cleared his throat. “You died.”

“I’m sorry,” Anakin whispered, staring into the aching pain that lingered in Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Master, I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Obi-Wan shook his head, his smile crooked. He rubbed Anakin’s cheekbone gently with his thumb, and Anakin’s eyes fluttered closed at the soft contact. “You did nothing wrong, Padawan.”

Anakin turned his head slightly to kiss Obi-Wan’s hand, looking up at him sincerely. “I just… I love you, Obi-Wan. I don't want to cause you pain.”

Obi-Wan laughed, and it sounded too much like a sob. Anakin raised a hand, and realized that he was still clutching the knife with a bloody hand. He frowned at his fingers, intentionally releasing his white knuckle grip. The knife made a soft splashing noise when it landed, and Anakin looked down with a frown and ran his hand through the dark water.

_He didn’t feel the pain, the suffering—how were they in the Wellspring without pain?_

Obi-Wan was frowning at the water too. “This is not the cave on Tatooine. I think I’ve actually traveled in space.”

“We’re beneath the Temple, Master. I can feel that we’re both on Coruscant.” Anakin gave him a concerned look. “How are you even touching the Wellspring? You’re kneeling in it. We’re both _soaked_. Sidious said it would kill anyone else.”

“Well, I have a… _theory…_ about that.” Obi-Wan looked a little shifty. “I’ll explain later.”

Anakin smiled widely at his evasive expression. He reached his left hand up, and frowned at the blood still oozing from the long, deep cut. He sighed and dropped it, raising his right hand instead, stroking Obi-Wan’s beard and pulling his face close. “Thank you, Master.” He kissed Obi-Wan gently and then let his head drop back to the ground with a small splash, looking up at him fondly. “I love you so much, Obi-Wan.”

“I am incredibly glad you’re alive, Anakin. You…” Obi-Wan looked slightly ill at the memory, and kissed his forehead. “You really weren’t.”

Anakin made another apologetic noise, and tried again to sit up. Obi-Wan let him this time, moving back to sit on his heels. Anakin stretched his arms, cracking his back. “What were you saying?”

“What?” Obi-Wan stood up slowly and reached down, offering him a hand. “When?”

Anakin stood up with Obi-Wan’s help. He felt shaky and exhausted, and remembered abruptly that he’d been getting struck with Force lightning repeatedly right before this all happened. _Before he’d died._ He could definitely feel that effects now, and held on to Obi-Wan’s hand tightly, even when standing.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked from Anakin’s eyes to his feet and back up, and frowned. He pulled Anakin’s arm around his shoulders, and wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him up. Anakin sighed with relief and leaned into Obi-Wan’s side. He kissed his cheek before murmuring, “As I was coming back, I heard your voice, Obi-Wan. You were saying something over and over, but I can’t remember what.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan looked slightly uncomfortable again. He looked around and began pulling Anakin toward the exit. “I… I suppose I was saying part of the Mandalorian bonding vows. Waxer and Boil’s wedding, you know, put it in my—”

Anakin laughed loudly, and shot Obi-Wan a surprised look. “Are we married now?”

The idea made him feel oddly giddy, and he couldn’t help but grin, and his cheeks felt warm with a blush. Obi-Wan caught his eye and then relaxed, looking a bit less awkward.

“No,” Obi-Wan said gently, pulling Anakin forward and out the door, into the light of the hallway. “You have to say it back for it to count.”

Anakin hummed his understanding. He looked over at Obi-Wan’s mouth and intentionally slowed down his steps. Obi-Wan looked worriedly at him, and Anakin tugged him closer, wrapping both arms around his neck and kissing him hard. 

Obi-Wan made a noise low in his throat and kissed him back with equal desperation, pressing against him until Anakin’s back hit the wall of the corridor. Anakin spread his legs slightly, and Obi-Wan stood between them, their chests pressed together, so close. _It was so nice, so perfect—being pressed between Obi-Wan and the wall, held so tight, he felt so safe._

Anakin eventually broke the kiss, “Can I?”

Obi-Wan moved his head back and blinked at him, befuddled. “Can you what?” 

“Can I say it back?” Anakin hugged him tighter. “I want to say it back.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said again, and Anakin could see a blush rising beneath the beard. His hand came up to tenderly push Anakin's curls off his forehead. “If you want to, I guess, that would, yes, I mean—”

“Good,” Anakin cut him off again. He made eye contact, trying to communicate how much he meant it, how much it mattered. “I really want to.”

Obi-Wan kissed him gently, and pulled his head back. He stared into Anakin’s eyes and murmured, “We are one when together, we are one when apart.”

“We are one when together, we are one when apart,” Anakin said quietly back, pouring all his feelings into the words.

Obi-Wan nodded and swallowed. He kissed Anakin and pulled back, speaking roughly. “We will share all, we will raise warriors.”

Anakin hugged him tighter, they were so close. He rested his forehead against Obi-Wan’s and murmured, “We will share all, we will raise warriors.” 

Obi-Wan tipped his head to the side, and kissed him deeply. Their lips moved together slowly, no rush, no urgency. _They had all the time in the world._

Anakin broke the kiss, full of the need to say it again, “I love you so much.” Obi-Wan smiled at him widely, and Anakin’s eyes sought the secret dimples under his beard, and he kissed one. 

“I love you too,” Obi-Wan said, and then huffed a disbelieving laugh. "More than anything."

Anakin suddenly tipped his head to the side as if listening to something distant. “Ahsoka’s just arrived in the system.”

Obi-Wan nodded and pulled back, his face full of satisfaction. He began to lead Anakin back up the hallway, and chuckled quietly, shooting Anakin a wry look. “I think it’s time to restore the Republic.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Anakin laughed. “Sure, Master. Let’s _restore the Republic.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤️
> 
> Alternate Chapter Titles:  
> Two Weddings and a Funeral  
> Obi-Wan Does A Little Light Necromancy
> 
> I really hope you found this chapter to be worth the wait. It took some thought to think through! Haha.  
> Anyway, without the community, this story would not exist. Thank you so much!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Say hi to me on [my tumblr](https://intermundia.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Listen to the playlist [Promises](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ff6Nfc25lYLiuza54RJco?si=Zg-mIAmZScuHG_8yG3lmpQ) by [wernnaa](https://wernnaa.tumblr.com) for more LT feels ❤️


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